Time Has Come Today
by DMartinez
Summary: Xover:SPN/Ros John and Dean attempt to live the life after Sam has moved on to Stanford. An injury forces the duo to stand still for the first time in years, a waitress forces them to reanalyze their path, and John stumbles onto the mystery of a lifetime.
1. Chapter 1

Author: DMartinez  
Email:  
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed in the following work of fiction belong to the CW/WB/UPN. No infringement was intended.  
Rating: Mature  
Summary: Crossover: SPN/Ros: John and Dean attempt to live the life after Sam has moved on to Stanford. Missing Sam was inevitable but missing him this much might tear them apart. An injury forces the duo to stand still for the first time in years and a waitress forces them to reanalyze their path. Then John stumbles onto the mystery of a lifetime.  
Warnings: Dirty Old Man/Dirty Thoughts/Demon Play/Comic Book Inspiration by way of Supernatural: Rising Son/Origins

Time Has Come Today

John drummed his fingers along the top of the steering wheel. He'd been listening to Dean's chatter for six hours. They had finished the hunt and John had come to expect that Dean would burn off his adrenaline through chatter if there wasn't time to pick up a woman. The chatter, though. The last time he could recall that Dean had chatted so much was the first time John had let him have coffee. First it had been about how big that explosion had been. How high had that coffin lid flown? Then it had been about how frickin' cold the air was. The second hour had been all about Creedence Clearwater Revival and their roots in the good old blue grass. Then there had been a discourse on Metallica's pre-sellout years and the post-sellout years. Around 6 am, the sun began to color the sky and Dean just had to inform him of what caused the oranges and reds and yellows. John had had that conversation with Dean at every sunrise they had seen together since Dean was seven years old and had just discovered that girls could be anything but icky. It had never gotten old over the years until now with Dean at 24 years old and sitting in the passenger seat after this first series of hunts without Sammy.

Sammy. There was a can of worms that John didn't want to open right now.

The fourth hour was a decent discussion about the druidic methods of measurements in the sky using what Dean constantly referred to as the devil's-finger-counting-thing. John could never remember what it was really called and that class in high school was an eternity and three lifetimes ago. Come the fifth hour, John was ready to blow his brains out with the glock in the back of his pants because Dean had to talk and talk and talk. Of course it hit him as they were hitting a little town that normally the chatter was banter and normally the banter was split between Dean and Sam. Normally there were arguments from Sam about the night's hunt and the next hunt and the swift departure from the last town. It was all too much. He had to pull over and find anything that would shut Dean up. That's when he saw it. Food. Food. Dean loved food and they hadn't eaten since yesterday anyhow.

Dean just had to keep talking and complaining like he was filling space for his missing little brother. He was doing the talking and the whining for two all the way into the diner, even going so far as to gripe about the type of food served. The world was truly coming to an end if Dean had discovered a food that turned him off.

"It's just food, Dean." John swiped a hand over his face. Where in the hell was that waitress who had seated them? He found the blonde, flirting with another table on the other side of the diner.

"I'm just saying that some adventure is okay. With all the risks we take on the job, we could take one or two with a meal. Try something off the norm. Some Lo Mein or a pita." Dean really missed Sammy. Sammy would have gone with him to grab Chinese or Greek and damn if a lamb gyro didn't sound good. Surely they could find one open this early in the morning. The town couldn't be that small.

"We take enough risks on the job." John sighed heavily. Never in his life did he remember Dean talking so damn much. He almost missed the days when Dean didn't say a word at all. Staring at the boy and seeing the little boy he once was… Almost. He never wanted a silent Dean again.

"Fine. I'll eat another hamburger with cheese and extra onions."

"Go easy on those onions, son. Gas on the jo-" John turned again to find that damned waitress only to find his face pressed firmly into a soft cotton bosom. He jerked back, stammering apologies, "I'm so sorry, miss."

Dean was pleased to have witnessed the whole thing. His father's face was bright red around his thick beard. The brunette waitress was young and cute and the shade of a lobster. Dean knew better than to laugh out loud but he couldn't contain the first snicker.

"I'm so sorry." John repeated.

"My fault. Sorry." The girl cleared her throat and held up the coffee pot. "Coffee?" John slid his cup out and Dean held his out for her. "Cream? Sugar?"

"No, thank you." John shook his head, still red.

"Could you stick your finger in mine?" Dean didn't even try to hide his smile. "You've embarrassed the old man out of his usual lines. Someone had to say it."

"You… Mr. Charming." She warned him, the blood settling out of her face. "Can I get anything else for you fellas?"

"Two lunch specials, mine with extra onions." Dean ordered for them both.

"It's 9 am…" She glanced between them.

"Been a long night, darlin'," John rumbled and swiped a hand over his face again. "Make mine on the rare side, please."

"Bloody or pink?"

"Pink and warm."

"Feeling okay, Dad?" Dean frowned.

"Sluggish. I'm good." John waved him off.

"Okay. Two specials, one with extra onions, one warm and pink. Sides? Fries or veggies?" She asked as she picked up the menus.

"Fries." They chorused. She nodded and offered John a wan smile before scooting off in her little skirt to tack their orders up.

Dean smirked at his father. "So, second base without first base and she didn't rack you. Maybe I did get this gift from somewhere."

John cleared his throat and felt his face warm a bit. "Dean, enough."

"What? She was hot and she even apologized to you." Dean couldn't resist teasing. He loved giving his dad hell.

"Dean."

"Think you could handle a young thing at your old age?"

"Dean."

"You've been out of the game awhile. Do you even remember where the parts go?"

"Dean, don't be an asshole."

"What? I'm just saying. Do that thing you do. Flirt with her and let her think she's got a chance. See how far you can get."

"What'd I just say?"

"Fine. I'll fuck her."

"Don't be an asshole." John got up and smacked his son upside the head as he headed for the bathroom. He tried not to think about it. Dean was right, though. It had been a long time since he'd stuck his face in any woman's parts. Staring at his reflection, he felt really old. That waitress had been 20 if a day and here he was at 49, a graying old man, a widow of 20 years. When he emerged again, their waitress was standing at their table and Dean was flirting more successfully than before. She looked like a nice girl. Too nice a girl. John lingered near the kitchen until the girl made her way back. "Excuse me," His eyes flicked to her name tag. "Liz?"

"Yes, sir? Can I help you?" She gave him a small smile, less nervous than she had been before.

"I just wanted to apologize again for earlier. You're a very nice girl and you don't need old men sticking their heads in your… front parts." John felt a little better when she laughed at his over-politeness and awkward gestures.

"It's okay, really. It's not the first time a man's almost put his face in my chest but it is the first time I got an actual apology for it." She rested her hand on his arm and tip-toed to kiss his cheek, which made him blush and made her smile. "You're very sweet. Thank you."

"See, now, you went and got on my good side." John tried to cover how her compliment affected him. "So, I gotta warn you now… My son… he's a dog and so I have to beg you not to sleep with him… just so I can put him in his place a bit."

"You got it," she giggled. "He is a bit of a dog, isn't he." She shooed him off. "I'll have your burgers out in a minute."

Dean looked up, smug, when his father returned to the table. "So, I'll get her phone number for you. Don't worry. You'll have your first barely legal since you were… barely legal."

"Dean, shut up." John rolled his eyes.

"I'm just looking out for you, Dad. You need to get back on the horse. Sow some wild oats or something."

"Dean." John sighed heavily. He really wished his kid would shut up.

"Here you go, fellas." Their waitress reappeared with two plates. "One special with extra onions and fries. And one special, warm and pink, with fries." She set each down in front of each man, then whipped her order pad out. "Two coffees, black. If you need anything else, give a holler."

"Thank you, Liz." Dean grinned at her.

"You're welcome." She smiled at him, then smiled broader at John then gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Enjoy, handsome."

Dean stared dumbfounded at her retreating back. "Hold on. What did I miss?"

"Looks like she chose the better man." John retorted as he smeared mustard across his burger and took a bite. "Eat your breakfast so we can go get a room."

"That's just wrong." Dean frowned as he shoved a French fry into his mouth. He eyed the little waitress as she made her rounds. "So very wrong."

John focused on his burger. It was a little bloodier than he'd wanted but there was a reason he'd asked for it that way in the first place. He had lost a lot of blood on the hunt before this last hunt and he was still suffering the after-effects. He really wanted a steak but he'd seen the delivery truck out back. It was bad enough that he'd risked the hamburger. Then the waitress returned. "Can I get you guys anything else? Dessert?"

John saw his son's mouth opening and had to shut it for him. "How about some of that apple pie I saw on the counter, darlin'?"

"Warmed?"

"Absolutely."

"For you, too?" Liz turned briefly to Dean who shook his head. "Alright, then, Handsome. Be right back with that."

"It's sick is what it is." Dean muttered when she left. "The poor girl's had a horrible accident and she's sick."

"Dean, shut your mouth." John just sipped his coffee and hoped the caffeine lasted long enough to find his way to a bed. He was actually enjoying torturing his son for a bit. It made the kid's chattiness tolerable.

"Here you go." Liz set the slice down and took a can of whipped cream and left a neat pile of white fluff on top. "If you guys need anything else, let me know."

"I think we're good, darling. We could use some directions to a decently priced motel, though." John picked up a fresh fork.

"There is one right around the corner. Dirty but they've got cheap nightly and good weekly rates." She nodded to herself. "We deal with them. If you pay an extra two bucks a night, we give free breakfast. Hot breakfast, too. Eggs, sausage, pancakes or oatmeal."

"Then it ain't exactly free, is it?" John deadpanned as he took a bite of his pie.

"What in this world is?" She shrugged and moved along, pausing only to place a kiss on his cheek. "Enjoy the pie."

"Apparently Dad's pie is free." Dean flicked the bill at her.

"What pie?" Liz blinked at him, shared a grin with John, and shuffled off.

"My pie is never free." Dean muttered and stole a bite from his father's plate.

"Because you're an asshole." John polished off the pie.

"You raised me."

"I raised a gentleman. I don't know where you got this other shit from." John laid a couple of bills on the table. "Must have been the wolves."

"And you're tipping her? Since when do you tip?"

"Since we found a waitress with the good sense to keep you at arm's length." He finished his refill of coffee and shoved his body out of the booth. "Come on. I want to get some sleep."

"Yeah, fine." Dean picked up the money and the bill. "I'll meet you over there with the car." He watched his father trudge out. He approached the register and rang the little bell, then waited for the blonde waitress to notice. She didn't. The brunette raised an eyebrow at him as she took the money and tried to hand the change back. "No, keep it. The old man is insistent."

"Well, then thank you." She smiled and tucked the change into her apron.

"What spell did he put on you? You and I, we were getting along just fine and then a complete 180."

She grinned and ducked her head. "Ask him."

"Okay. I will." Dean took four little mints off her little dish and exited the diner. When he caught up with his dad, he was unlocking the door to their room. After his father's ritual of shower and brushed teeth, Dean couldn't hold it in anymore. "Okay. Tell me what you did to her. She was good for a break in the backroom and then all of a sudden she's all over you. Tell me, please."

"Dean." John smiled and shook his head. "You underestimate your old man's charm and the intelligence of that little waitress. She could put one and one together. She was smart enough to figure you for a wrong number."

"Free pie. Tipping. And after that whole titty snafu."

"I'm a nice guy, Dean. It pays off."

Then it clicked. Dean's jaw dropped. "You conned me? You did that to your son? You're an evil man."

"Good practice for you. Figuring out when you've been conned. Get some sleep, son."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

John rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and made his way to the ice machine for some ice. His jeans were falling off his hips, no doubt due to his inability to eat more than once a day since Sammy had run off. Due to his liquid diet after noon. Due to his constant hunting. Due to everything that wasn't right in his life. He gazed out into the parking lot. He knew Dean was out there because he could hear the car's radio blasting the local classic rock station. He could see his boy's lower half sticking out from underneath the hood, oil pan full at his feet. All that was missing was Sammy sitting next to the car with a book, his long limbs sprawled out to trip his brother at the nearest opportunity. Shaking his head, he moved along to the ice machine. Just as he was getting to it, a door opened and a familiar brunette tumbled out, yanking on her shoes. John acted swiftly to catch her before she ran into the railing. She counter-acted by gripping his shirt in her fists.

"Thank you and I'm sorry and… hi." She smiled up at him and winced a little as she smoothed his shirt over his chest. "Long time, no see."

"Well, least there was no inappropriate touching this go 'round." He tried to set her at ease.

She just blushed and tugged her shoe on. "What is your name? We keep feeling each other up. I should at least know your name."

"John." He held out his hand.

"Nice to meet you, John." Her eyes focused on the parking lot after she firmly pumped his hand once.

"If you want to sweet talk him, just admire the car and ask him about the engine. He'll start talking and he'll never know you don't know anything about cars."

"Am I obvious?" She winced inwardly.

"Only a little… but I've got a trained eye." He winked at her and moved past to the ice machine. He filled it up and turned to face her where she was leaning on the railing, watching Dean work. "What's the dinner special?"

"Salisbury steak with mashed potatoes and green beans. Gravy over the whole thing." She made a face. "I'm late for my shift. I'll save your booth."

"What's that?"

"I'm in with Inga at the desk. She said you've booked indefinitely. I know that single men don't cook so… I guess I'll be seeing you two pretty often."

"How did you know we were both single?"

"You don't know how to flirt with women." She called over her shoulder as she made her way to the stairwell.

John snorted and shook his head. He glanced down at the ring on his left hand and felt more alone than he had in years. It was burnished from his constant absentminded rubbing while he thought about potential hunts and leads on the demon. He looked up to see the girl taking a short side trip through the far end of the parking lot. Something she said made Dean stand up straight and say something with a grin while he spun the ratchet in his hands. Dean let her pass by, waiting a beat before craning his head over his shoulder to watch her walk away. At least she was going to make Dean work for it.

Popping a cube of ice into his mouth, he bit down, savoring the metallic taste. His body ached and groaned. His teeth protested the chomping but when he'd woken up, it was the first thing he'd wanted. Weary bones and coming off two hunts in a row. He needed coffee, or booze. One of the two. Then he'd be awake or drunk and not thinking about twenty year old breasts. Shit, where did that come from? Sleep. What he really needed was sleep. Dragging his bones back down the walkway, he shoved open the door to his room and fell onto his bed with a new piece of ice in his mouth.

Lying still didn't help him go back to sleep. He tried rolling over but was uncomfortable. The more he tried not to think about what he'd been thinking about on the walkway, the more it popped into his head. Of course, the more it kept popping up, the more his body let him know that it had been a long time since there had been any popping down below.

Rolling onto his back, he resigned himself. There was only one thing left to do. It had the double benefit of releasing his tension and relaxing him enough to go to sleep. It wasn't like it was the first time he'd done it in 20 years but it was the first time he'd really dreaded doing it. He unbuttoned the jeans he'd worn outside and kicked them off the bed. Careful to slide beneath the sheets should he get interrupted and that was not a first, unfortunately.

Lying there, he let the blood rush south as he thought of the moments of his marriage that he'd cherished. Mary's long blonde hair draped over her bare back. The curve of her body when she slept on her side, her hip jutting out and then the dip into her waist. Curling around her when they were a couple without children to wake them up, feeling her inside his arms while they whispered about all the plans that were put into motion.

Sliding his hand into his shorts, he gripped his half-hard dick and gave it a squeeze as he thought of all the really good times they'd had in bed. Quick fucks after lights out before Dean or Sam could cry out. Long, slow love making when they were sure they wouldn't be disturbed. All the curves of her body falling all over him, moving beneath him, crashing into him.

Stroking, he picked up a rhythm and breathed deep as he found an image that had always turned him on. Mary, sitting at the table in her panties and one of his flannels with just one button holding it on, her foot up on her chair while she sipped coffee out of his cup, insisting she didn't want one of her own. That got him close, so close. Stroking faster, he needed more, just a little bit more.

Soft cotton covered breasts pressed against his face, soft scent of strawberries and cream underneath the thick scent of fried food, small hands against his chest, short skirt and a round ass… red lips, full and…

John breathed heavily while his heart stopped racing. A mess in his shorts and a guilty conscience. The girl was too young for him to be thinking about that way and yet… John opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. "You're officially a dirty old man, John Winchester."

Hoisting himself up, he made his way to the shower. A nice long cold shower. While the ice cold water shot pellets against his face, he realized that for the first time in 20 years, he had gotten off to someone besides the memory of his long dead wife… and that scared the hell out of him. He loved his Mary to the ends of the Earth and always would. He was going to kill the demon that murdered her if it was the last thing he did. She was the reason he had lived his life the way he had, the reason he had ruined his children's lives… but it was a young brunette waitress who had made him shoot his load in a dirty motel where probably countless other dirty old men had shot their load thinking of her mouth.

Feeling infinitely old and worn out, John climbed out of the shower and whipped a towel from the rack. Roughly toweled off and wrapped it around his waist. He found Dean sitting at the little table with the guns out, cleaning and brushing. He watched Dean's eyes flick to him, then the bathroom, then something by the bed. Dean shut his eyes and gave a shudder. "What?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all." Dean shook his head and concentrated on brushing out the barrel of a small caliber gun.

John rolled his eyes and set out getting some fresh clothes on. "How's the car running?"

Dean stopped what he was doing and looked up at his father. "Pretty good, actually… and you're the second one to ask that question in about as many hours." He leaned an elbow on the table. "That little waitress from this morning… she stopped by just to ask me that. Did someone have a little chat with her? Retract some unfavorable comment?"

"I don't make retractions." John zipped up his jeans and pulled on a shirt. "She's gonna make you work for it though."

Dean dropped his gaze to stare at nothing for a few seconds, then shrugged and grinned. "Hey, I'm always up for a challenge." There was nothing but the sound of the brush and John's crunching on ice for the longest time. Then Dean cleared his throat, catching John's attention. "Hey Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"I haven't been feeling so hot the last couple of days. Mind if we hang out a while? Just need to let this bug work itself out." The boy's green eyes met his, concern bleeding out.

John knew the boy wasn't stupid. He'd raised him better but Dean knew his father. Hell, they'd been best friends until Sammy had gotten old enough to be preferred company. John would insist on moving on tomorrow, even if he was bleeding out his eyes and Dean knew that. Dean had a cast-iron stomach and never got the stomach flu, John knew that. John had seen his jaundiced reflection. He needed to get his head together before he lost himself to the next hunt or got Dean killed or called Sammy to come join them, not that he would… John met his son's eyes. "Okay. Okay. I'll give you a week to nail the waitress and then we're out of here."

"Like I need a whole week." Dean snorted.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

John stared out over the parking lot for a long time. His strength was still there or gone but maybe by the end of the week, he would feel more like himself. Dragging his bottle from the bottom of his bag, he found himself a little walkway with nowhere to go where he could see a bit of the town and the woods behind it. There was a little bench already there and so he had himself a seat and a drink.

He'd had about a fourth of the bottle when a shadow fell over him; the waitress in plain clothes. She crossed her arms and clucked her tongue at him. "You're in my spot."

"Didn't know your name was on it."

"Well, it is. I'm charging a tax." She took his bottle and took a swig. Then coughed. "What is this? Liquid fire?"

"Just some whiskey." He took the bottle back. "Dean's down at the car wash."

"Oh?" She turned to peer out on the town. There he was, six blocks over, shirt on the ground and running a chamois over the sleek lines. She took the bottle to take another drink. "I see. You're in my spot, by the way."

"You mentioned that."

"You didn't move. I thought it bore repeating."

John laughed to himself and yanked the bottle back. "Keep stringing him along. It's cheering me up."

It was her turn to laugh. "You are in my spot though. I've been sitting in that bench watching over this town for over six months now and no one has ever stolen my spot before."

"It's a good spot. Clear sights on the town, you only know it's here if you know it's here and it's got a bench."

"Uh-huh. Also, there's this tree down there that keeps anyone from seeing up here from the street."

"Nice bonus." He nodded and enjoyed the sun on his face.

"John? What brought you to this little cubbyhole in the Catskills?" She stole his bottle again and stepped over his legs to find herself a seat on the corner ledge.

"Just driving through."

"Okay. Why'd you stop here?"

"You ask a lot of questions."

"I'm annoying that way."

"Really." He looked up at her to find her grinning.

"There's not a lot to do in these mountains. I work a lot. At the diner, here at the motel and sometimes down at the curio shop down the road." She pointed with the bottle.

"Busy girl." He reached over and playfully yanked the bottle out of her hand. He took a long pull and wished that whiskey had the effect that it had on him when he was younger and not so used to the buzz.

"I try."

"Nice view." Dean's voice drifted over from where he stood leaning on the corner. John noted that his son's eyes were not on the view over the balcony but rather on the pair of legs draped across the railing. Dean reached over and took the bottle of whiskey for a deep slug. "Am I crashing the party?"

"I was just heading inside." John managed to get to his feet steady enough. Unfortunately, he seemed to have gotten his wish and he felt drunk for the first time in years. He didn't give either youngster a passing look as he rounded the corner. He found his way to his bed and lay down, letting the room spin around him. Unfortunately, he got what he paid for where the room was concerned. He could hear every word from the balcony outside the side window.

"I tried to ask him but he wouldn't answer me either. What do you do?"

"Jack of all trades, really."

"Passing through?"

"Sure."

"He drinks a lot." There was a long telling silence. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Everybody drinks. Who doesn't?"

"I'm sorry."

John tilted his head and glanced at the window, the shadowed outlines of their forms were plain against the thin curtains. When they had gotten so cozy, John didn't know. He could see the amber swirl of the bottle when one of them tilted their head back to drink.

"My mom was… murdered when I was little. We… saw it happen. We've been moving around ever since." One shadow shrugged. "I don't really know anything else. Dad sure as hell doesn't anymore."

"He must have really loved your mom."

"Yeah. Still wears the ring. Doesn't date. No clue if he's gotten laid since then. Just the bottle and the move."

"You sound like it makes you angry."

"Naw, it's nothing. Just… he's sick right now. I don't really know from what. He won't say. Just sleeps a lot, doesn't talk and drinks more heavily than usual." The shadow's head turned and John could see his son's profile. "I had to… well, let's just say that we had to make it my idea to stay put for a while."

"And what was your idea?"

"Stomach bug."

"Uh-huh. Is that why you had me rubbing your belly last night?"

"Oh, no. That just felt good."

"You're such a pig." There was a hard smack. "If you make the sausage joke again, I'll leave you here, alone, with your sausage."

"Come on, everyone likes eating sausage… Ow."

"I warned you."

The shadow outlines blurred into one and John was supremely happy that the sucking smacking noises didn't make it through the glass. Blissfully, the room stopped spinning and the air was quiet… for all of a minute.

He ignored the first grunt. And the first curse but when they came in a long unbroken strain, John couldn't take it anymore. His mind was already spinning with those mental images. Dragging himself upright, John muttered to himself while he grabbed his jacket and the room key. "Dirty, dirty old man."

John shook his head all the way to the staircase and all but stumbled down the two flights. He just needed a nice long walk to wear off the alcohol and the images of twenty year old brunette waitresses who seemed to know what to do on their knees. Turning at the corner, he found that Liz was absolutely right. No one could see the balcony from the street. Staggering away, John gripped his knife and headed for the woods. Nothing like tracking rabbits and deer to get his head straight. Meat sounded good. Been spoiled for a good many years on beef and chicken, anyway.

John had been walking for a good half hour when he realized that he hadn't brought a flashlight. The woods were dense and the hills and valleys were unforgiving. Crashing to a knee against a tree, John had to admit that he was lost. The world spun around him and he had to admit that this was not the wisest decision he had ever made. That included Tampa. Jesus, Tampa. Shutting his eyes, he let the world right itself. Let the night cool his flushed face and then opened his eyes to the blackest, quietest wood that he had ever been in. Using the tree to steady himself, he got to his feet and tried to remember the shape of the wood from that damned balcony. If he started walking, he should hit a road going any one of three directions. Heading that fourth direction though… that might set him up for getting lost for days.

Why in the hell had he decided to take a walk when he was weak and drunk? Right. The girl. Nicer and prettier than she ought to be. Dirtier and naughtier than she ought to be. Her skirts were entirely too short. Her manner was entirely too inviting and… Dammit. John Winchester was a dirty old man. After forty minutes, he found himself on the tree line around the block from where the motel lay. Thank goodness for small favors.

Dragging his weary bones up the staircase, he let himself into the room and found it void of any sign of life. No bags, no whiskey, no weapons. What in the hell? He was only gone a couple of hours. Dean was never one to panic. Slamming the door shut, he spun around to examine the parking lot but there was no Impala. Dammit! He rounded the corner onto the little balcony. The bench sat empty and when he looked out onto the town… there was something… off about the view. He couldn't put his finger on it but it was different… significant. Walking back the way he came, he found the ice machine and pounded on the door next to it. No answer. Dammit!

John sat his ass on the top step of the stairwell. His phone had been in his bag. His wallet, too. Maybe they went cruising around for him. Lord knows that if that boy was already spilling family secrets, he was probably recruiting help as well. He could sit in the room and wait until they got back, which probably wouldn't be until dawn. He had some change in his pocket. He could have a cup of coffee keep him company until they wandered back. At least the diner was still open. According to his watch, it was well after midnight.

By the time John dragged his weary ass through those doors, they were getting ready to close up. He begged off a cup to go from a waitress he had never seen before, then grabbed an abandoned newspaper to take back to the balcony with him. He folded it open when he was settled and snorted over a typo on the second page. President J.W. Bush. Didn't anyone spell check anymore?

He checked the obituaries and the police log but didn't do more than glance over them until he looked up again and realized that he couldn't see the car wash from the bench. The tree branches got in his line of sight. Trees didn't grow that fast. Then the date on the newspaper caught his eye. April 20, 2018.

Coffee tipped over and spilled over the side of the building but his eyes fixed on the date. Fifteen years. Flipping back to the second page, he scanned the article on President Jenna W. Bush, who was apparently a woman of intrigue as she never took her husband's name and was the third generation of Bush in the White house. Flipping through with wiser eyes, he picked out more changes. Price of gas had risen to 7 for the poor schmucks who were still allowed to use unleaded. Everyone else was paying 10 and change for whatever they put in their hybrids. Hybrids. How could there be anything more fucking wrong than a hybrid?

Folding up the paper, he eyed his surroundings for the nearest thing approaching a pay phone. There wasn't one. He shoved the paper in his back pocket and carefully retraced his steps back to where he'd emerged from the wood. Watched his pace, kept his eyes on the trees. Found where he'd stumbled. Found his own trail. In two hours, going the wrong way, he emerged from the wood a few feet from where he'd originally entered into the dawn of a new day.

Blinking into the rising sun, he saw the Impala pulling into the lot. He never saw such a beautiful thing in all his life than his boy behind the wheel of that car with his girl in the passenger seat. They looked just the way they had the night before. Same clothes, even. Dean spotted him and started running. "Dad!"

The boy was on him before John could find his voice. Arms embracing and breath hitching. Then both hands were griping his shoulders. "Don't you do that to me. Not after Sam… Just… don't do that me." Dean made a face and turned his face away. "Dude, the whiskey breath needs attention."

And that was his oldest son. Concerned, angry and comical, all in one breath. "Need me some sleep."

"What happened, Dad?"

"Went for a walk. Got lost." John's hand fidgeted with the paper in his back pocket but he wasn't going to ruin Dean's good time if there was nothing to be done about whatever had happened in the woods.

"Me and Liz been driving around all night and you were in there?" Dean turned to look at the woods. "You got lost?"

"Been drinking a good while before you showed up and even before she did… Son… I gotta get some sleep." John patted his son's shoulder and made his aching feet move.

"You okay?" Dean stepped up and hovered without being asked.

"Just tired."

"Dean, what happened?" Liz's voice reached John's ears as they formed a little procession up the staircase. "Dean? John?"

John kept moving forward and when he opened the door, he braced himself. The door swung open and all this things were just where he'd left them. He tugged off his boots and fell into bed. The door was open and Dean wasn't done with him. "He's fine. It happens sometimes. He gets drunk and wanders off. Usually finds his compass sooner than this though."

"So, he's really okay?"

"Yeah. No big. He'll sleep it off and get drunk again tonight."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Nah. You should sleep, too. Been a long night."

"Yeah."

There was a long pause, punctuated by a soft smacking of lips. "You work tonight?"

"After last night? I'm taking the night off."

"Sweet. I'll stop by after I get him squared away."

"Don't count on it. I'm tired… but tonight, I expect some time, mister. You owe me."

"Well, then, I better rest up."

"Call me before you come barging over." More smacking before the door shut and the springs on the other mattress protested Dean's weight. "So, what really happened? And I know you're not asleep already." John didn't respond. "Come on, Dad. You don't just get lost."

"This time, I did. Get some sleep, Dean."

"Fine, but I'm revoking your whiskey rights." A joke and a threat. John wondered what the hell had actually happened out there in those woods.

--

John read the newspaper over a late lunch. Ol' W was doing the same old, same old. Gas was nearly two bucks and hybrids were pretty scarce. Hell, maybe he'd fallen, hit his head and dreamed the whole thing… except for the paper in his back pocket; the one with W's partier daughter as the President of the United freakin' States. How in the hell that happened when just last month Dean was joking about nailing her during Mardi Gras? There was a tall tale if John had ever heard one but he'd seen enough gossip rags at checkout counters to know the girl's reputation.

Setting everything aside, John tried not to think about it too much. Obviously no one knew about the woods or else there would be talk. Though, it was strange the way the town was built around that stretch of wood. It stuck out into town but no one had tried to develop it. It made him wonder why.

Turning his head, John eyed his son having his breakfast with his girl. Twin cups of coffee. One black, one with sugar. One bowl of oatmeal with raisins and one plate of hotcakes slathered in syrup, side of bacon extra crispy and a pair of runny eggs. Hers hardly eaten and huge chunks missing from his. Dean was doing all the talking but continuing to eat, while Liz nodded and nibbled at her bowl so she could focus on what Dean was saying. John had to admit that she was the nicest girl that he had ever seen tolerate Dean for such an extended period of time. It wasn't like Dean had snowed the girl. She'd made him sooner than John had suspected but she genuinely liked him. It showed in the way she watched his face when he talked, touched his hand to gently get a word in edgewise, the way she focused on him and no one else… not that that particular trait was something she limited to Dean.

John had felt it used on himself when she would corner him to ask questions. She was just naturally curious, that much he was sure of. She wasn't building a case on them, just mentally stockpiling the information the way a good girl does for… well, for the family she's thinking about joining. Maybe he was gonna have to cut this little vacation short, after all. Then Dean laughed at something that Liz said. Maybe it was just everything plus missing his baby boy but he'd do anything to see Dean laugh like that all the time. Since Sammy left, all Dean's jokes had been tasteless and his laughter had been hollow. This was nice to see again.

Shoving himself away from the counter, John tossed down money for his meal and stalked his way back to the room. Found his bottle and started drinking. A drink for every moment his Mary had let him talk long and fast about cars and maneuvers and never complained. A drink for every breakfast out with his arm on the back of her chair and her hand on his thigh. A drink for every Sunday morning sprawled on the carpet with the baby, playing games and teaching each other patience. A drink for spaghetti night and little faces smeared with sauce. A drink for every slow dance to music that no one could hear.

Then John ran out of ice. It was a crooked line to walk to get to the ice machine but he could do it. He only stumbled once. Caught himself on the railing. He filled up his little ice bucket and lingered to suck on an ice cube. That's when he heard the voices.

A moan. "Oh my g--… Please… like that…"

Lifted bleary eyes to the window beside the ice machine. Like all the rooms, the curtains were thin and threadbare. Did nothing to block out light and certainly could be seen through. Noted because the first things his eyes focused on were a pair of small curling feet, attached to legs hooked over a pair of shoulders which were attached to the back of a familiar head. A hand in the head of hair, which led to the bare torso which was attached to the moaning, gasping head with a very familiar face.

John forced himself to breathe and to find his way back to the room. He was tempted to dump the little bucket of ice down his pants. He was too far beyond his little infatuation. There was nothing he was going to do about it. He just had to admit that the little woman turned him on. Clearly, he had no shot as his son was eating her out at the moment.

"Fuck it." John set the bucket aside and glared down at his lap. "Everybody does it," he repeated to himself what he'd sat down and told his boys years ago.

He lay back and stroked himself to the images that were now burned on his eyelids. Her mouth, hung open and gasping. Breasts jutting up into the air. Hands clenching. Fingers squeezing momentarily on a hard nipple before reaching back to clench in the bedspread.

Catching his breath, John swallowed down a huge lump in his throat. "Come on, John, get it together."

After getting himself cleaned up, John drained the bottle in one long gulp. Of course, there was another bottle in the trunk, next to the axe, if he recalled. He was just passing the ice machine when Liz's door opened. "Hey John? You want to go eat out?"

"What's that?" He turned to face her, hoping his face wasn't turning red. Her hair was wet and hung around her face. He averted his eyes.

"Dean's in the shower now but we were about to go grab something over in the next town. Actual steak that doesn't taste like shoe leather." She smiled at him. "I promise."

"Maybe some other time. Just heading out for a refill."

"I'm not taking no for an answer. Meet us down at the car." She swung the door closed.

That girl. John shook his head, which spun a bit, and turned to make the descent to the parking lot. Only he tripped over his own shoes and tumbled down the stairs. Pain shot up his leg and then a fire ignited in his head. His vision swam in red and black.

"John! John!" Little hands patting his face, checking his extremities. "John, are you okay?"

Then the little hand found his thigh and he let loose a shout that he didn't recognize. The pain. His vision flashed red and black and white.

"Dean! Dean, come quick!"

"Dad? Dad!" Rough hands on his face.

"I think he broke his leg."

"Dad, come on. Wake up. Look at me. Dad. Come on, pal. Dad. Dad. Dammit, Dad!"

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4

When John came to, he could make out Dean sitting next to the bed, elbows resting next to John's unbroken leg. Liz's hands on Dean's shoulders. She was massaging lightly and pressing kisses into Dean's hair. She was a good girl. "He'll be okay, Dean. You'll see. Just a tumble and a bump. Six weeks, the cast will come off."

It took a moment for John to get his tongue. "Deano, get me some water, huh? Mouth's drier than a witch's cootch."

Dean's head popped up, mouth quirking up in one corner. "You kiss your mother with that mouth, soldier?"

"Here you go, John." Liz had been quick to snatch up the pitcher and try to feed John the water like a baby.

"Did I break my hands, too?" He asked her.

"No…" She winced and handed him the cup to drain. She refilled it when he'd gulped that down. "Sorry."

"Go get that doc, will you? Want out of here sooner than later, darlin'."

"Yeah, I'll be right back." Liz refilled the cup once more, squeezed Dean's shoulder and bolted from the room.

"Man, you should have heard the gibberish coming out of your mouth when they were setting your leg." Dean tried to put on a brave face but it faltered. "Doctor said that in addition to having a blood alcohol level that would kill a prairie dog, you were so severely anemic that he's gonna have to prescribe iron pills for a full six months to make sure you don't keel over again." Dean sat up, fingers fidgeting in the blanket. "I keep thinking… what could make you that way? It's not cancer, according to the doc. Then the doc says something about blood loss and a bruised spleen or something… and it's been at least two weeks since we got banged up badly enough for something like that…"

John drained his cup again and waited for the explosion.

"The last time, it was me that pulled this shit and you grounded me for two weeks."

"You gonna ground me, son?"

"Dad." Dean growled through clenched teeth. "I got down the stairs and you were bleeding from your head, your leg was laying wrong and you kept babbling about the woods and President Bush and… and Sammy… It was all I could do to keep it together." He sniffed and wiped at his nose. "If it weren't for Liz, we'd probably still be there. I panicked. I can take it when a werewolf takes a swipe at you… or a ghoul knocks you out for the count… but uh… a set of stairs and a fifth of Jack… that ain't happened in years."

"What can I say? Not as young as I used to be."

Dean raked his eyes over his father's face, as if taking in the lines and gray for the first time. "You sure don't act your age."

"Can't afford to, kiddo. I'm 49 years old. I should be… bouncing grandkids on my knee, not… hunting down spirits and demons."

"Bouncing grandkids. Right. Where are you gonna get some of those?" Dean snickered. "Guess Sammy could be out there… impregnating those smart chicks at Stanford."

"You know what I mean."

"No, let's explore this some more. You want some brats calling you Papa Winchester and asking questions about why Dad and Pop-pop don't ever stay at home or why they carry a gun or… why there's always salt on the floor?" Dean stilled his tongue at the weariness in his father's face. "Dad… I'm not trying to be mean… just…"

"You think I want this for you boys?" John started to say more but Liz entered with the doctor and once they got to talking… Well, John just sort of tuned them out. Dean was merciless in outlining all the behavior that he'd seen as odd in the last couple of months. The doctor agreed that most of it had been symptoms of the blood loss.

John just couldn't take his eyes off of Dean, talking to the doctor, with Liz perched on one leg, his arm around her waist. Sitting there as if he hadn't just proclaimed that it was impossible for him or Sam to develop relationships and have kids or anything else that John truly wanted for his boys.

Liz's hand on his leg drew him out of his thoughts. "Did you hear that, John? Folic acid and no coffee for a while."

"Oh, you gotta be…" John cut himself off.

"Listen up, old man. These are doctor's orders and you're gonna follow them to the letter or else I'll dump you in some old folks home and forget about you." Dean growled.

"This is very important to hear." The doctor cut in. "At your age, you should be more careful. Take better care of yourself."

"I'm not an invalid." John bit out.

"Really, he's not older than forty… two?" Liz shook her head at the doctor.

"Off by about ten years, sweetie, but thanks for trying." John let loose a long breath. "Okay, so folic acid, orange juice and no caffeine. I suppose there will be dietary changes like more milk and cheese or spinach and liver… am I right?"

"Well, sounds like it's not your first go with iron deficiency. I'll give you some recommendations. Follow or not, you'll do as you want." The doctor wrote out his scripts and set them down for their perusal. "As for the leg. It was just a minor fracture. No traction needed but expect to be off of it for at least three months."

"Three months?"

"Femurs take longer to heal because the bone is thicker. There were no fragments to complicate the matter. All in all, you were damn lucky." He gestured to the brace on John's leg. "That stays on and you are wheelchair bound for the duration of its stay on your body."

--

John threw most of his weight onto Dean, who bore it like a man. The three of them managed to get up to the room. Liz raced ahead to get the door open and to arrange pillows on the bed for John's comfort. Dean grumbled something that John couldn't make out. Liz just gave him a look that John recognized as annoyed. John made himself comfortable. "Take back whatever you said, son…" Dean swung his gaze to his father. "Or else you're sleeping alone tonight."

"He's not wrong." She stared at him.

"Fine." Dean straightened then reached over to pull the pillows off his bed to prop his father's foot up.

"Well it's not like you spend your nights in here anyway." She pinned him with a look. "I'm gonna go grab us some food."

When she'd left them alone, John whistled low. "She's mad."

"Yeah. I got that, thanks."

John glanced around and noticed that the room had been cleaned. "What happened to the newspapers on the table?"

"Housekeeping, probably."

John cursed under his breath.

"Well, it's not like you can go hunting right now, anyway." Dean sank down on the edge of the bed, his back to his father. "I meant what I said the other day. I… you can't do shit like this to me, right now. Sammy's… God knows where and you're acting erratic."

"Erratic, son?"

"Drinking more than usual, talking to yourself, getting hurt and not getting help. Going off for walks and getting lost and what is up with all the man-handling?" Dean turned abruptly to face his father. "For years, you give the lectures and… you just… never do anything for yourself and all of a sudden… you're choking the chicken like… like a teenager."

"Dean…"

"You having some kind of mid-life crisis?"

"This is not a conversation that I want to have, ever." John ran a hand over his face. "Been dog tired for months now… Since… since Sammy left. Not been recovering so well. Been weaker than usual, feeling the hunts harder." Shrugged. "Thought I could just shake it off… til now."

"And your relapse into a 13-year-old?"

"I'll tell you… ain't happen in a long, long time… and it ain't like I never done it since your mom passed. I don't know… I don't. First time I did it for more than maintenance for a good long while."

"Congratulations, Dad. Sounds like you'll be a decent human being sooner rather than later." Dean tried to joke but it fell flat. "Just all of a sudden? Just all of a sudden sex is interesting again?"

"Surprised the hell out of me."

"How does sex stop being interesting?" The question was out of Dean's mouth before he could stop it.

"Dean… you've been around the block a time or two but… until you love someone, really love someone… sex is just part of it, Dean. I cannot describe to you how much your mother meant to me. Thinking of being with anyone besides her was just… out of the question. When she passed on, that didn't change." That's when John realized that he'd never had this particular talk with his sons. "All the things that we joke about, complain about women… when you meet the right one, the one you fall in love with… you gladly do everything you hate just to make her happy."

"Okay, this is where I ask 'like what?' right?"

"Let's just say that if you break it off with a great girl because she wants to talk about her feelings or wants to watch a Robert Redford movie or because she wants you to hold her purse at the mall… then those reasons aren't really why you're breaking up with her. It's because you don't really love her and there's no reason except that you don't." John relaxed a little. "You find the right girl and you'll watch Audrey Hepburn movies and An Affair to Remember and Romeo and Juliet… just because she'll sit next to you the whole time. You endure the tortures of shopping because she thanks you for it with back rubs and your favorite foods. You try not to get grease on the table because it makes her voice high and whiny and it's much more fun to put the grease on her nose or her cheek."

"Do you have any idea how cliché you sound right now?"

"Yeah. I do. I don't know how. Don't know why now. You'd think at my age that it would have been diminished anyway… Can't say I feel healed, just that… maybe I'm living in the world more than I was before." John met his son's eyes. "I want you to have what I had. I do."

"Yeah. Okay. I hear you."

Liz burst through the door with a heavy takeout bag in one arm and a TV tray in the other. Dean jumped up to take the heavier load. John watched them work as a team, without words, to get lunch on the tray across his lap and lunch for themselves spread on the table. There was the standard talk of time off, of arranging med schedules, of arranging down time. Dean glanced at his father. "I'm gonna have to take off… make back some cash."

"What is it that you do, again?" Liz glanced between them but neither man answered.

"Odds and ends." Dean finally answered, then cleared his throat. "Won't be gone long."

"You're gonna leave him here? Alone?" Liz sat up straight in her seat. "Dean."

"I'll be fine." John waved her off. "Not the first time I been laid up without my boy. I'll manage."

"No, I'll help. You just dial my room number and I'll come over."

"I'll get you a room key." Dean cleared his throat and met his father's eyes. "I meant what I said at the hospital. You're grounded. And I don't care if you're 49. You're grounded."

"What a hard ass." John muttered as he sipped his lukewarm soda.

"I got ten laps for calling you that." Dean mused but eyed his father's thigh propped up on a stack of pillows and gulped. "I'll go easy on you. I want eight Latin verbs conjugated by sundown."

John shook his head at his son. "Softy."

"I know. I should give you twenty but I figured you could do eight while drunk easily."

"Hey, no drinking. The doctor said you can't mix alcohol with your pain pills." Liz cut in to the banter with a tinge of regret. They acted like brothers sometimes the way they talked to each other. She almost called them on it but held on to it for when she knew them better.

Dean snickered and tipped back his cup to drain it.

--

The first two days without Dean, John tried to make it in silence. Feigned sleep and too many painkillers. Dean checked in the way he was taught to. Then Liz gave John an idea. She nudged the door open and set down her load. Breakfast, a small bag and two heavy books. She set up the tray over his lap. "I tried to balance the doctor's orders with what men like to eat. Soft scrambled eggs, turkey bacon, buttermilk biscuit and a nice tall glass of orange juice to take your meds with."

"The warden is away." John muttered, but it smelled good.

"I got you two books from the library. Non-fiction historical. Dean mentioned that you had a hobby of research." Liz began emptying the plastic bag. "I noticed that you were out some toiletries so I went and picked some up… but of course I didn't know what you liked so… I just went with efficiency and good taste." She pulled out shampoo. "It's your standard strawberry scent." Then a jar with brush and soap. "I noticed you preferred the straight razor but your jar was out." She waved a bar of deodorant at him. "Figured you were a stick man." Then pulled a long tube out of the bag and a box with a pulsating showerhead. "This is for the manly shower you're going to have later… after I figure out how to attach this thing."

"There's one hitch with your plan to get me clean." John mumbled around a mouthful of bacon and eggs.

"What's that?"

"I can't stand in the shower and sitting is not ideal."

"This motel has a crappy shower chair that I'm having wrapped in saran wrap as we speak." She winked at him. "Trust me, I thought of everything."

John set the tray aside and picked up the books. They were vaguely interesting and he wasn't about to make her take them away. "Research is a hobby of mine. Next time you swing by… maybe see if there's some books on the local lore."

"Local lore?" She straightened from where she was peeling the plastic off the new acquisitions. "Like the boogeyman?"

"Kind of. Just… stuff that's from around here. Not looking for the Jersey Devil but if the Catskills got something similar."

"Okay. I'll see what I can find." She nodded to herself as she continued to unwrap and prepare her gifts. "Where I grew up, we had this thing called La Llorona."

"Woman in White. I'm familiar."

"Woman in White? I thought it translated as Crying Woman." She frowned at him.

"It does but the lore is pretty universal. Woman in White is the general term. Taken because the woman is nearly always a bride who is betrayed by her husband. She cries because she murdered her own children in her grief. Her evil deed overwhelms her and she commits suicide."

"I guess it happens a lot, huh." She averted her eyes and sat on the edge of the bed. "I guess I never thought of it as more than a story. I guess there is a lesson in all of it."

"Well, it's not a parable or anything like that. Just something that happens sometimes." He watched her profile as she retreated inside herself. "The phenomenon comes from the inability of the spirit to forgive the sins. It lingers, forever searching for love. In some areas, she takes other children to replace her own. In others… she punishes men for what her husband did to her."

"I guess I could see how being treated that way could make a spirit angry." She whispered, her eyes far away.

"How'd you come to these parts, Liz?" John found himself asking and actually caring about the answer.

"Some stories are better left untold." She cleared her throat and wiped at her eyes. Then the door swung open and her face changed. "Dean."

"Hmm. I come back from working hard and what do I find? My girl in bed with my dad…" Dean narrowed his eyes at them. "It's a good thing you're ancient." Dean winked at his dad and swung Liz up and off the bed. "It's bath time, I see." He stared at her face for a long moment. "Out. Bath time is not co-ed."

"I'll keep for a bit. Take a walk, stretch your legs." John nodded to the door. They didn't hesitate in leaving him alone so that they could greet each other properly away from his watchful eye. And John always felt like he was watching and seeing much more than he was supposed to.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5

Dean talked while he sharpened his knife. John could hear the snick-snick of the blade on the stone even though his eyes were closed. When he'd last had his eyes open, Liz had propped open the door to let in the fresh air and had sprawled in the walk-way with some kind of girly project that neither he nor Dean was clear of at the stage she was in. Dean had dragged a chair near to the door with his whetting stone. John had pretended to sleep in the cool air. The pain meds kept him in a drowsy state as it was.

"I've… got a little brother." Dean had just blurted it out. Just like that, bringing a stranger closer to his heart. That had been one of the first things he'd told the last girl he'd slept with more than once.

"Oh? Where is he?"

"College."

"Wow. College, huh. You ever go?"

"Me? No, I'm not the college type. Sammy, though. He's exactly that type."

"How come you never mentioned him before?"

Dean was silent for a long moment. John could almost feel those green eyes checking to see if the old man was still asleep. "They had a huge fight the night Sam left. Both too proud to admit the other one matters to them any."

"What was the fight about?"

"Whether or not Sam should go."

"oh."

"Sam's really smart though. He's… well, he's the college type. He's my geek brother."

"Why didn't your dad want him to go?"

The silence was heavy that time, John almost opened his eyes. "Because now Sam's alone and we're not there to protect him."

"How old is he?"

"I dunno, your age."

"I think he's more than old enough to make that decision for himself." There was lightness to her voice. "It's not like the three of you were gonna be together forever. One day one of you was gonna meet someone and settle down." The heavy silence again. "Right?"

"Hadn't planned on it."

"Dean, really."

"I… told you about my mom. Well, the thing is… she… her killer was never caught and… Dad's been tracking him all over the country."

"Vengeance is an evil thing, Dean. Sure, eventually you'll catch up to the guy and dispatch some sort of justice but the thing about vengeance is that there's one victim that no one ever bothers to rescue."

"Oh yeah? What victim is that?"

"The victim in the crossfire."

"Which is who?"

"In this case… it's you and your father. Sam's rescued himself. The two of you… are losing your lives to vengeance." There was a shuffling and then a screech of a chair. The door shut harder than necessary. There was a 'Go to hell' if ever John had heard one. Of course, all John needed was to be left alone with a Winchester male stewing in his own juices. So he kept pretending to be asleep. Of course Dean would default to drinking.

And drunk dialing.

"Sammy!" Dean slurred when he was thoroughly sloshed. "Shut up… Studying, I guess, then… Fuck you, then."

--

Eventually, John actually fell asleep. Thoughts of the fight with Sam spinning around in his mind. Feeling bad that fight had caused a rift between Dean and his girl. He knew the rift was temporary but to hear Dean's voice so desperate with his intolerant little brother had about killed John.

He'd heard the banter, Dean teasing Sam about being a girl for having, or wanting to express, his feelings. Maybe it was just because John had a hand in creating Dean but he'd always felt Dean was the more emotional of the two boys. Sam got the corner on dramatics and passionate displays but Dean was infinitely more vulnerable. The bright smile and low-brow jokes hiding the weak spots.

When he woke, it was Liz who was nudging him awake. "I know you're pretty groggy already but it's time for more meds."

John sat up and blinked the sleep out of his eyes. Liz's eyes were red and her voice raw. He took his meds and glanced at the little table where Dean was cleaning his gun. He knew by the set of Dean's lips that his green eyes would be tinged with red and his voice would be hoarse. There had been some words between them that John had slept through.

Apparently they weren't done because Liz lingered on her perch by John's hip. She fluffed his pillows which she should have left alone if she was gonna lean that close to his face with her tits. Then she propped him up so she could set the tray and a meal in front of him. She kissed his forehead before moving away to let him eat.

He watched them stumble outside, Dean's hand at Liz's lower back. They kept the door open but their voices low. Then Dean retuned alone. John wanted to say something but didn't know what.

Dean cleared his throat a few times. "Think you'll be comfortable in the backseat for a couple of hundred miles?"

Then John knew exactly what to say. "I didn't raise my boys to run away from a fight."

"What?" Disbelief crossed Dean's face. "What are you talking about?"

"You're gonna drag me over the state line with my leg like this because you can't win a fight with a girl?" John snorted. "Welcome to the human race, Dean Winchester. There's not a man who hasn't been in your shoes and I'm telling you now that it's a lesser man who runs away from it."

"Dad, it's not worth it. She's just a girl."

"Dean." John took a deep breath. "I can heal anywhere. Usually I'd insist on it." Dean's eyes lifted to his father's. "If I honestly thought Liz was just a girl, I'd let you run away. But she was never just one of your girls that you see if you just run through town."

"How do you know that?"

"Cause the two of you are in the middle of this huge fight and she dropped by to feed your aging broken father his pills and a dinner that she did not buy or heat up in a microwave."

Dean sat silent for the longest time, hurt and longing on his face. Then he grabbed his jacket. "Don't wait up."

"If she's got an older sister or a single aunt…" John started but Dean was already gone. Good for him.

--

When John woke the next morning, his pills were in a paper cup next to the bed, breakfast was a doughnut affair set within reach on the other side of the bed and his boring history books were replaced by Legend and Lore of the Catskills.

He'd eaten his fourth frosted doughnut and made his way through a quarter of the book by the time Dean stumbled in like he'd been on a horse all night… and Liz followed immediately after. The two of them waved sheepishly and crashed on Dean's bed. There was no awkward arrangement of limbs. A simple laying down next to each other that spoke volumes of their relationship. Then the pair fell asleep.

John just wished they'd had the decency to put Dean's backside to the room instead of Liz's. That's all he'd needed, to get a hard on when he couldn't do anything about it. Well, reading up on the local woods should cure that before the two woke up.

--

Over the next two days, things kept popping up in their room. Girly things and then John figured it out the morning he woke up as Liz was getting out of the bathroom, toweling off her hair. "When did you move in?"

She blushed and cleared her throat. "Last night."

"Coming on the road too or is this just for the remainder of our stay?"

"Um…" Clearly the kids hadn't discussed that. "Just trying to save everyone a bit of money."

"I see."

"Dean said you wouldn't mind."

"It's not that I mind but I wasn't exactly involved in this process."

"Dean." Liz huffed and turned back to the bathroom.

Oh, John, you're in trouble now, he thought to himself. There was no way he could go in that bathroom and not picture her naked body pressed up against the shower wall. "Dean!"

"What?" He leaned out the door.

"You didn't okay my moving in with your dad." She crossed her arms and cocked her hip; a new pose for John to witness.

"He's grounded. He's got no say." Dean ducked away to rinse off.

"You fall down one flight of stairs and the kid never lets you forget it." John grumbled under his breath.

"Maybe a month was too soon?" Liz pondered aloud.

"Maybe but confidentially speaking… this is the longest he's ever had a girlfriend outside of high school without running her off."

"Is that so?"

"Yep."

"So this… Cassie person…"

"Cassie?" John frowned. "That journalism major?"

"I think so."

That gave John some pause. "Two weeks. Soured quick."

"In what way?"

"I'm not his keeper."

"Avoider." She harrumphed and knocked politely on the bathroom door. "Dean, I forgot my brush."

The door swung open and John wanted to hide.

"Cassie… love of your life, Cassie, was a two week fling?"

--

John gingerly lifted his leg to rest along the bench and tried not to listen to the fight going on inside the room. He missed wearing jeans. Shorts were not an outdoor sort of dress for any Winchester. The shorts were too short and snapped up the side and thusly were entirely too drafty. It did give him an opportunity to study the tree line. The more time that passed, the more he was able to attribute his little trip to his condition. There had been a long list of side effects of the anemia and blood loss and he hadn't really paid attention.

He was still staring off when Liz appeared with a blanket and a stool. She moved quietly as she set the stool against the railing and helped him swing his leg around to rest on the stool. Then she spread the blanket over his lap. She gave him a small smile when she plopped down next to him. "It's cool out tonight."

"Yeah."

"Better than sitting in the room all the time."

"Yeah. Thanks, darlin'." He picked up the edge of the blanket, then he cleared his throat. "I'm sure you've got better things to do than babysit an old man."

"Um… currently, you're my favorite Winchester." She laid a hand on his forearm. "And besides. You're not old." She rolled her eyes at the expression on his face. "Some of my best friends were my parents' age. I don't consider that old." Her lips turned up at the corners and her hands dropped to her lap. "You're not really 49, are you?"

"I am." He sighed heavily. 50 wasn't that far off, either.

Her cheeks colored and her big brown eyes looked up at him from underneath curled lashes. "It's just… when you guys first came into town… until Dean called you 'dad', I had the two of you pegged as brothers. Him at around 22 and you at… 30… 35 at a push."

"Well," John chuckled at that. "I'm deeply flattered."

"Guess that means that Dean will age well, too."

"Don't know about that. He takes after his mother. First thing in the morning was pretty scary sometimes."

"John." Liz scolded him lightly. Her hand returned to his arm. "So, he looks like his mom?"

John nodded, welcomed the memories of his beautiful wife as she was before the horror of Sam's six-month birthday. "Green eyed, blonde, legs that went on for miles. Gorgeous smile. And the poor taste to love me back."

"What did you do before she passed? I mean, Dean told me that you're… kind of doing a vigilante thing now but before that." She squeezed gently. "Were you a cop?"

"God, no." John shook his head. "I was a mechanic. A buddy of mine that I served with in the Marines, he came into some money. I taught him what I knew about cars, he handled the business end. It was a good partnership."

"Sounds like it." She frowned and her eyes became distant. John let her go silent. The memories stung as much as they were cherished. Eyes ahead, John felt her head rest against his bicep and a moment later, wet warmth bled through his shirt. John licked his lips but his mouth had suddenly gone dry. It had been far too long since he'd dealt with a crying woman who hadn't just come face to face with a beast or ghost or monster. Slipping his arm out from under her grip, he slid it around her, drawing her closer to his side. "I'm sorry. Sometimes the best memories make me the saddest."

"For me, that's nearly always true."

"Are there any memories you enjoy from after she…?" Liz wiped at her eyes. "I was beginning to think that I could never really enjoy life again and… lately…"

"When Dean was six, I took him shooting for the first time. He took a shine to it. Just…" John took a deep breath that shook his bones. "I never thought he'd be so good at it. It hurts me to think that I was proud of him but I was. He was an easy going kid. Always. Cheering up Sammy when we moved, kept the kid's mind off the world and on little kid things." He laughed suddenly. "Sammy was five or six. Dean was nine. We went camping. Not to target shoot. Not to give me some time to hone my skills. Honest to goodness camping. Sammy hated every minute of the first night. Dean… oh… Dean ran all over the place. They were playing cowboys and Indians… Indians kept winning because the Indian was four years older."

"A lot of your happiness revolves around Dean's happiness. Have you noticed that?"

"Dean's the oldest and… I'm not that great a father. If he can manage to be himself, I don't feel half bad."

"How do you mean?"

"I don't know if you've noticed." He pointed to his leg. "But I do have some problems with liquor." She giggled into his side. "Afraid that… I'm much calmer than I used to be."

Her laughter faded away. "You drank the worst right afterward… God, and the boys so young."

"I wasn't a good father but… Dean… Dean already knows his way around diapers and cribs and feeding times." John felt his mouth curl downward. "He's gonna make a great father someday… if he can figure out what makes a good husband."

"Were you a good husband?"

"I'd like to think so."

"I'll bet you were. You're a good listener." She sighed heavily. "I'd like to think that I was a good wife." John blinked but didn't ask. "It was a very short marriage."

"Parker's not your name?"

"It is… I never had my name changed." She sat up straight, letting his arm fall off her shoulder. "There was no time."

"He pass away?"

"No but… we couldn't even stand to look at each other anymore." She shrugged. "We were too young. Grew up too fast. Then… when things fell apart, it was just better to go our separate ways." She nudged him gently. "I told Dean, already."

"So, you think he trumped up his relationship with Cassie?" John whistled low. "It looks cut and dried but… I know my son and I know what he was like coming out of that… I… Didn't give him much credit on that score. My son doesn't follow the rules because he never knew them. He didn't know that you can't fall in love for two weeks. I'm not saying it wasn't love. I'm just saying, he didn't know how to do that. He still might not. He's not much used to dating."

"That might be why I like him so much. I dated my husband through much of high school. It was complicated but it was my version of normal. Dean… just… doesn't sugarcoat anything." She laughed low in her throat. "He charms and lies but when he's doing neither, he just… does what he feels. He's simple that way. Uncomplicated."

"Don't let him fool you. He's plenty complicated. Just hides it better than most."

The smile on her face spoke volumes of her knowledge to that effect. No, Liz was not a naïve girl. Willfully blind sometimes? Sure. "Is it really okay for me to cohabitate with you two?"

"Darlin', you're spoiling me rotten. I'm gonna get this thing off and I'm not going to remember how to feed myself. If it makes it easier for you to do that, fine. If it means we split the room rent to make it cheaper all around, even better."

"You're so sweet." She rolled her eyes and kissed his temple. "I'm gonna go find him. He's probably under the hood of the car."

John nodded to himself. He managed a whole conversation without feeling like a horny teenager. Felt nice. Maybe because he'd been forced to think of Mary. They'd had so many plans. They had wanted one more child. A daughter. A sister for their boys to look after. Sammy would have liked having a sister to pick on.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6

Four weeks. Four weeks of sharing quarters with Dean and Liz. Or DeanandLiz as John thought of them in his head. When Dean wasn't gone out on little hunts or out scamming some cash, the two of them were inseparable. Liz was smart. John never thought she was dumb but they had several long debates on theology and spiritualism that he wouldn't soon forget.

The downside was that John was starting to feel normal. Meals at regular intervals, routines that can only be established while sitting still. Thoughts about staying still crept into his head. Doubts about the life he was leading. Thoughts that maybe Sammy had been right to leave.

A person could live out of a motel and still live like a person. Proven by Liz's spaghetti on Wednesday nights. Noodles boiled on a hot plate, sauce warmed in the microwave with breadsticks made in a toaster oven. Dinner eaten around the small table in the corner of the room. Friday night monster movies, courtesy of the local TV station, and microwave popcorn. Sunday nights were for studying. Dean and John read newspapers and read books on lore. Liz read books on physics and biology.

Dean woke at five, had his shower, then got John up to take his turn in the bathroom. Around eight, Liz was up and getting dressed for work. She took her showers at night, sometimes with or without Dean. Sometimes they were kind enough to take their sexual escapades outside the room where John couldn't hear them over the roar of the shower.

Boredom and drugs only lasted so long. John focused on building his strength where he could. Booze was out so long as the drugs were on. The clarity was rare. Sit-ups, arm curls, cross-legged push-ups and one-sided abductors. Four times a day because he was often that bored.

Then came the phone call. John picked it up because he had nothing better to do. "Yeah."

"John, good to hear you're alive."

"Bobby." John nodded though the man couldn't see it.

"Seeing the regular bunch of activity, which is a rarity with you and Dean on the warpath. What's going on?"

John could laugh at that. He and Dean had cleared a good many towns of ghosts and monsters since Sam had run off. It had shown how much they had been affected by his absence. "I had myself a spill. I'm laid up."

"Was it a werewolf?"

"No, the beast came in a bottle."

"John." John could practically see the older man roll his eyes. "That boy looking after you?"

"Yeah. Been about six weeks sitting still. Dean and his girl are doing a good job of making me lazy."

"Six weeks and Dean's got a regular girl?"

"Been here for seven, Bobby. Dean had that girl inside the first day."

"Well, hate to bust up the party but I could use your eyes and your boy's younger body to help me through this case. You up for traveling?"

"I could use the hunt. Don't know if I can drag Dean away, though."

"Short thing but… I ain't as young as I used to be and I need the help."

"Sure thing, Bobby. Be a day or two til we get there."

John set the phone down and reached for his crutches. He was just pulling himself to his feet when the door opened to admit the two in question. Dean stopped talking and stared at his father before setting down a bag of groceries. "Dad?"

"Bobby called. Needs our help." John grabbed his duffel and started shoving his clothes into it.

"Yeah, sure." Dean nodded and shot a look at Liz. "How long?"

"Don't know yet. Bobby's thinking it's a short thing but he needs your help."

"Mine?" Dean tilted his head at his father.

"You're a hell of a lot younger than either of us and you're the one of us without a busted leg."

"What kind of thing is this?" Liz interrupted, her face wary.

"Just a job." Dean shrugged at her. "Be back soon. Inside of a week."

"Oh. Okay." She relaxed and began unpacking the groceries. "Like last week, then… just farther out."

"Right." Dean nodded to her.

"You guys pack. I'll… get dinner and some stuff for the road." Liz nodded to herself.

--

John didn't much like riding in the back seat. He hadn't much of a choice with his leg in the brace. Dean got to drive, which always pleased Dean, and pick the music, which was blaring into John's left ear at the moment. He was beginning to have a whole new appreciation for Sam's tolerance of the backseat. Not that the boy was tolerating anything much these days.

Dean drummed on the steering wheel, speeding along the highway. From what John could tell, it was a good twenty miles over the speed limit. "Eager to get to the job?"

Dean stuttered over the words. "Um… sure."

"Okay, just keep an eye out for the cops. I'm taking a nap."

--

Bobby opened the door as they pulled in. John waved from his seat. Bobby waved a cup of coffee back at them and nodded to the door. It took a few minutes for John to get his crutches situated but somehow managed to get inside the house for a late breakfast. John hobbled in just ahead of Dean, who bore both their bags.

"Dean, boy, you sprout another inch?"

"I wish." Dean rolled his eyes and set the bags down by the stove so that he could steal a slice of bacon before getting his father situated at the table. Bobby asked the same question every time he saw the older Winchester boy.

"John, just what in the hell did the beast do to you?" Bobby laughed at his friend.

"Well, see, Dad started drinking and didn't stop for a really long time. Forgot to mention he'd bruised some internal organs which didn't play well with the booze. Then he tried to walk down a set of stairs under the influence." Dean glared at his father, who just shrugged in response. "So, he's got three months of the brace and four pins in his leg… two plates?"

"Sounds about right." John nodded. "So, I got stupid. Been known to happen from time to time."

"Stupid is right. Liz thought you were dead." Dean cut himself off and stood to get himself a cup of coffee.

"Liz is the girl?" Bobby asked John as he slid a plate under John's nose.

"Yep." John nodded.

"She legal?"

"Yeah." John nodded with a laugh. No one wanted to relive Tampa, ever. "She's the same age as…. She's 21."

Bobby's eyes flicked from John to Dean and then landed on John. "So you're not even saying his name anymore?"

"He still talks about him." Dean all but whispered from the other side of the kitchen. "Sam's not answering his phone anymore though."

"Dean would know more about that than me." John wished he didn't have his leg in a brace. He wanted to walk.

"Three months, huh." Bobby grunted.

"Halfway there. Then they gotta take the plates out. That's some pain I'm not looking forward to." John started eating, more to fill his mouth than because he was hungry. "So, we're here. What's this hunt about?"

--

Bobby sat in the truck with John. They monitored Dean's progress through the valley on foot. He was going to get the jump on the thing. John could feel Bobby's eyes on him. "What?"

"Dean's really sweet on this girl?"

"It was bound to happen."

"Does she know what he does with his time?" Bobby took a swig from his flask and passed it on to John, who tipped it back without a thought to his meds.

"Some of it. She knows he hustles, she knows he travels. Hell, he's been on three hunts in the last month. She don't know why he really ran off. He just told her he was hustling a little further out. Came back with enough green to prove the worth of it." John tipped the flask back again before passing it back.

"You think he's gonna keep her?"

"Keep her." John snorted. He thought of her smile and the way her eyes lit up when someone else was talking about something she was interested in but knew nothing about. "He moved her into the room with us."

"Balls of steel, that one."

"She's cooking and cleaning and I'll be damned if I can get a burger anymore cause she's watching my diet for me." John cleared his throat. "Dean near killed us on the way over here. He hasn't said but he figures that if he drives fast enough, gets the job done fast enough, we'll be back sooner than he promised."

"So, he's hooked on her, huh?"

"She can cook. She cleans. She can keep a budget and save some cash. Looks like an angel, curses like a sailor when provoked. They keep each other on their toes."

"Sounds like it." Bobby took another pull on his flask. "You think he'll let her in on all this?"

"I hope not." John thought about all the conversations on the bench outside. The way her eyes would focus on something that wasn't there. "I don't know what that girl's seen but she can't unsee it. She might already know but if she doesn't, I hope he never has to tell her."

"You sweet on her, too?"

It was just a joke but it hit too close to home for John to let it slide by. "Girl does everything but give me a sponge bath." Then he let himself relax. "She's good for him… so far."

"When are you gonna let that boy go, John?"

"You think I haven't tried?" John met Bobby's eyes for the first time since they'd met up. "I need him, Bobby, and he's holding on just as tight."

"This thing with the girl works out, then you let him go. You hear me? Dean's been a good boy all his life. He's a good man and he's never gonna know that if you don't let him prove it to himself."

"He will. Someday."

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7

Bobby jerked his thumb at Dean's back. John glanced up to find that Dean had pulled the cord as far as it would go from Bobby's phone and hadn't quite managed to exit the room with the receiver. "He's in serious trouble."

"She's had him twisted around since day one."

"You just let him get pussy whipped?" Bobby poured them both a cup of coffee.

"It's been highly entertaining." John grinned into his cup. "If it don't last, it's still something I can look back on and be glad I did something so stupid as fall down a staircase in the middle of the afternoon."

The day wore on in silence aside from the rumble of Dean's voice on the phone. Bobby stared at John. "What are you hunting John?"

"Nothing."

"Well, there's a lie."

"What's with you, Bobby?"

"You look… preoccupied in the scary way."

"You're like a woman with the henpecking."

"What's going on?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It's a very strange way to live."

"I ever tell you that you pulled me from the brink, John?"

"How's that?"

"That boy in there and that boy you don't talk about. I never saw… laughter in our world until them."

"The boy in there is a nut job."

"Undisputed."

"Liz said something to me the other day. I measure my happiness by whether I judge Dean's happiness to be appropriate."

"Appropriate." Bobby snorted at his friend. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Never mind."

"John…"

"I didn't do right by the boys. By Dean in particular. Sometimes he manages to be a normal man with normal wants and needs and when he's…" John took a breath. "Spending his Sunday sitting on the floor with a newspaper and helping Liz cook breakfast, I don't feel like such an asshole."

Bobby only nodded and refilled both their cups. "Yeah. I hear you."

"We have spaghetti night, Bobby. When was the last time you had spaghetti night?"

"1972. Winter. Maybe December, possibly January. Probably January."

"Wouldn't that be 1973?"

"Nope. Couldn't've been any later than '72." Bobby took a long sip. "You gonna hang up your hat?"

"No."

"Didn't think so."

--

John sat on the porch with Rumsfeld draped across his lap. He knew Dean was itching to get going but his leg was really throbbing and he needed a refill. They'd phoned it in but the pharmacist was taking his sweet time stocking the damned things.

"So, you got a girl to call your own, huh." Bobby's voice drifted out of the open garage.

"Yeah, I guess."

"She puts up with you."

"Yeah." Dean's laugh made John smile.

"Your daddy seems to like her."

"Yeah, he does and Dad doesn't like anybody. She's just… She doesn't put up with his shit… Not that he's been giving anybody shit, exactly." There was a long silence. "He tell you anything?"

"Your daddy? No."

"Come on, Bobby. He had to have told you something. He's like… having a mid-life crisis or something."

"Dean. The man misses his son. He's laid up. You got a girl. He's just… thinking things over."

"What things?"

"Like whether or not he can keeping going the way he has been. He's getting up there. Lived longer than a lot of hunters who been in the game a lot longer."

"Liz said something like that last week."

"She sounds like a smart girl."

"She is… could have gone to college."

"She didn't?"

"She got married to some guy. High school sweetheart."

"How'd that go bad?"

"Lots of things. He cheated on her in high school once. Got a girl pregnant. Never sees the kid."

"Sounds like a jerk."

"Way I understand it, he wasn't given an option. She's not mad at him, I guess."

"So… why is she with you?"

"You're funny." Dean cleared his throat. "We just… kind of… clicked, I guess. She's smart and she doesn't put me down for not being smart."

"You're smart, Dean."

"Shut up."

"Your daddy told me about the cartridges you came up with few months back. It works damn well. You could've been an engineer or something."

"Anyway." John could hear the blush in Dean's voice. That boy never could take a compliment if it wasn't on his looks. "So, she treats me like we're the same… She don't feel sorry for me. She don't take my bullshit. She actually likes Dad." Dean cleared his throat. "You ever meet a girl who was… funny about birth control?"

"Funny how?"

"Obsessive."

"Can't say I have."

"I think… I think she… never mind."

"You think she's got a kid somewhere?"

"No. I think she would have told me if she did… I think she was gonna have a kid once. She gets… funny if she sees babies and if she hears someone talking about kids. That's when she gets… funny about the birth control."

"You looking to have kids with her?"

"No." Dean said too quickly. "I mean… no."

"Then don't worry about it."

"I just… can tell she's upset."

"Well, then, at least you've got a clue. Men have been hanged for less."

"You know… when Dad first broke his leg… he was babbling shit. It was probably pain and malnutrition and blood loss but he was going on about Sammy needed him and I needed to sit still and the woods was wrong. I don't know about any of that. But he comes to and the first thing out of his mouth was something vulgar. Normally, I'd just give it to him but… Liz was sitting right there and that's what he don't do. He's not vulgar with the ladies… unless it's June Weathers." The two of them had a laugh at that. John even managed a smirk at that. June Weathers was the furthest thing from a lady. "Then he sends her out to get the doc and he's… talking about… grandkids and getting me and Sammy out of the life."

"He ain't the only one want that for you boys."

"But this is Dad. He don't talk like that. He… he's scaring me, Bobby. He's been sending me on hunts alone. He never does that. The last time he was laid up, we still did it together. He had to wait in the car but he was there… He just… sends me out. Good little soldier to take out the big evil."

"He's getting on, Dean."

"No and it's… other things. I think he's got a crush on someone but I haven't figured out who, yet. He's been weird."

"Your daddy don't talk much. It's probably just his mortality setting in. We all go through it."

"You?"

"I ain't always lonely, boy."

The phone rang, truncating the conversation and sending Dean out to the porch. "Let's get on the road, Dad. Meds are ready."

--

John pretended to sleep and Dean didn't even pretend to read posted speed limits. Then the phone rang. "I'm on my way." Silence. "Hey, man… no… no… I just thought you were someone else… nah, he's right here… he's out. He's all busted up-… Man, you gotta cut him some slack." The familiar sound of frustrated Dean pounding the steering wheel. "Sammy, you're the one who's ripping this family apart, not Dad… Who the fuck cares? Not me… Look, just keep on being a little frat punk ass and don't call unless you actually want to work on the whole family issue."

Of course, Dean was going to stew in his own juices for a bit. John had his own thoughts. It'd been four months and finally Sam was reaching out. God, he missed that kid. Always mouthing off and asking questions and… helping out in a pinch and damn if the kid didn't think outside the box in all the right ways. It took twenty minutes for John to realize that he'd stopped pretending to sleep and Dean knew it. "How'd he sound, Dean?"

"Annoying, like always." Dean sniffed. "He doesn't belong out there."

"He made his choice."

"Why'd you let him leave us?"

"Couldn't exactly ground him, could I."

"You could have kicked his ass into traction… or let me do it."

"He'll get tired of it."

"Quit it." Dean bit out. "Just stop it. He's not coming back." Dean's foot fell off the gas and the car slowed to a stop on the shoulder of some unmarked road. "He hates us. He hates this life."

There was nothing he could say to make Dean feel better. "Dean… Sam's a grown man. He's got to live his life. Make his own mistakes."

"It was a mistake. He should have never left us."

There was nothing to say to that. John felt the same way. "Come on. Get back on the road. Your girl is waiting."

Dean waited two beats, then put his foot on the gas. He didn't let up or say a word until the motel was in view. Dean did a loop around the block then settled into the far side of the parking lot. John started moving when Dean didn't. Didn't bother with his duffel. Dragged his sorry ass up the stairs on his crutches and nodded to Liz when he made it to the room. She stared past him and when Dean didn't follow, she stood up to look out the window. "Where is he?"

"Sulking."

"Did everything go okay?"

"It all went as expected. Dean's in a mood. I think you should… fix him."

Liz stared at him for a long moment. She crossed the room and picked up the phone. "Hey Missy? … Sorry Mel… Look, I know I said I'd work tonight… Wait, wait… I'll pull a double tomorrow." She rolled her eyes. "Like you weren't just gonna sleep anyways." She plopped the phone down, fixed John's pillows and planted a messy kiss on his forehead. She gripped his chin. "Leftovers in the mini-fridge. Clean clothes in the TV stand. Call if you need us or else I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Get out of here." John jerked his head at the open door. The second she was gone, he got up to find the bottle he'd left behind. Under the nightstand? No. Under the sink. There. Guilt was best drowned with Jack and Jim.

--

"He's okay."

"You sure?"

"He's got a pulse. Fast. He's drunk." Clatter of pill bottles. Clink of booze bottles. "And high. How fucking stupid."

"Dean."

"He knows better and… fuck… I didn't follow him up." Creak of mattress springs. "Dad?" He couldn't talk. "Dad, wake up. Come on. Time for a shower." Lifted up into the air. Dragging along. Cold. Dammit. "Come on, Dad. Come on. Shit."

"Let me help."

"Just… watch his leg."

"John? Can you hear me? It's Liz."

"He's… so fucked up. When he comes to, I'm kicking his ass."

Cold. Wet. Thirsty.

"Here's some water. Sip it. That's good, John. Slow." Cool. Soothing. "How many did he take?"

"Two at Bobby's. Two after… my phone rang." Rattle. Rattle. "Shit. He took four more." Sniffles. "He's never done this. You gotta believe me."

"It'll be okay, Dean. I promise. We can do this." Cool hands.

"Liz, quick. He's gonna throw up."

Hot. Pressure. No Air. Relief.

"Ok, John. Rinse. Spit. Again. It's okay. It's okay."

"Ok, Dad, gonna brush those teeth." Flushing toilet. Fluoride. "Alright. Alright." Cool water. "Okay, spit. Good. Good. Sit back down." Cold water. "What are you doing?"

"Helping." Soft and warm. Firm grips. Small hands.

"Holy shit, Liz, what the hell?"

"Be still, John. Be still. I'm gonna help you. Just be still."

"Liz?" Heavy breathing. Surround sound. "Are you glowing?"

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Part 8

John woke up in dry clothes, beneath the sheets of his bed. His eyes didn't cooperate at first but he woke without even a hint of a hangover. When he turned his head, he could see the two of them, in their clothes, over the covers, both of them facing him, both of them asleep. From the creases in their foreheads, it wasn't an easy sleep. Sitting up, John expected the room to spin. It didn't. A pitcher of room temperature water sat next to his bed, he gratefully gulped a glassful.

Dean woke first and carefully eased off the bed behind Liz. He was quiet as he checked his father's pulse, his eyes and damn if the tears in his eyes didn't just kill John. Tears filling his own eyes, he hugged his first born. John found his tongue first. "I'm sorry."

"Don't do that to me. What the hell is going on with you?" Dean's voice was thick with tears. "Don't leave me alone, Dad. Don't do it."

"I'm sorry. I wasn't… I wasn't thinking."

"Yeah you were. Too much. Just like I was." Dean took a deep breath and let go slowly. "Come on. Let's get cleaned up and show Liz we don't need her to hover today."

John stared at his boy. Eyes red, jaw set. Pain etched across his face. "I didn't mean to do it."

"I know."

"I won't."

"I know."

"Dean…" John gripped his son's shoulder. Met those eyes and couldn't find the words. "Help me shave off this soup catcher? It smells like vomit."

Dean coughed out a laugh. "Yeah, sure thing."

They chatted idly while they washed up, John leaning on Dean because the bathroom was so small. Let Dean do all the shaving. Remembered when Dean was ten or so and had helped when John had sprained his wrist. Careful, smooth strokes. "How long you want these sideburns?"

"How long do you want to live?"

Dean smirked a little and cut them at the base of his father's ear. "Dude, you date yourself so much."

"Well, this would be a Kodak moment if it weren't for the rollercoaster of the night." Liz had her arms crossed in the doorway.

"Go back to bed, Liz." Dean murmured as he examined his work.

"No. I need to yell at someone and I've got you both trapped." She shoved her hair off her face. "Don't you ever do that to me again. I don't care why. I don't care how but you will deal with your issues some other way. I flushed the pills since you can't keep yourself out of the bottle. If your leg hurts. Tough. I'm going out for pancakes and neither of you are invited."

Dean raised an eyebrow and watched her go. "Glad I didn't piss her off. Sucks to be you, today."

"And every day."

"Not every day. Remember that werewolf when I was a kid? That was an awesome day to be you."

"All I remember was a creaking knee that gave away our position, nearly getting clawed up and spending an hour getting that smell off my skin."

Dean stared at his father as if seeing him for the first time. "Dad… you were awesome. It came right at you and you just… fired at it… and it fell. Boom. Just like that. Effortless."

"I wish."

--

John forced himself to breathe. Gripped each end of his pillow behind his head. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Gritting his teeth, he sucked in air through his nose. Liz slid her hands along his thigh. "Just relax, John. Don't think about the pain. Don't think about a drink. Just relax. What relaxes you?"

"Recite firearm maintenance." Dean suggested from where he was pacing the room like a caged animal.

"Dean." Liz rolled her eyes but kept up the gentle massage.

"Roll of tape will keep dirt and snow from the inside of the barrel. Permanent marker on a spare scope helps keep sites through drops and falls on a hunt." John gritted out between clenched teeth. "Oil rag never replaces a good brush. Oil rag swipe is better than no swipe. 90 clean is always better than 100 dirty."

Then the pain began to ebb away. Liz's hands rubbed harder but the pain was less. Her hands warmed his skin, his flesh, his bone against the cool steel of the plates and pins. Breathing easier, John really relaxed. "Field strip, brush, wipe; lube grit, grime or residue; reassemble; check the action. Clean the chamber, the bore. Copper solvent, bore guide, graphite rods, bench vise."

"Get all the nooks and crannies." Dean finished for him as he sat down.

Liz slowed her rubbing, his knee tucked under her arm. "Just breathe, John. Nice and slow. Keep thinking about guns if that calms you down."

Then his leg began to tingle the slightest bit. Dean cleared his throat. Liz's head turned to look at him, her hands slowing, lessening the pressure. "Better, Dad?"

"Yeah, thanks, Liz." John nodded as she began strapping his brace back into place. Lack of pain allowed John to lay back and have his first coherent thought in about a day. He nearly missed the flurry of murmured words which sounded suspiciously like an argument. He had missed something but he wasn't sure who would be the one to tell him what was going on.

When he finally turned his head, they were sitting still and close, heads bowed together, noses touching but not very relaxed or romantic. Watched the blatant ownership of Dean's hands where one was tangled in her hair and the other gripped the base of her neck. Her hands fisted in his shirt and jeans. Neither letting go. Clinging without restraining. John shut his eyes.

--

John hobbled his way back into the room to find a lesson going on. Liz sat between Dean's legs, his hands guiding hers to fit the pieces of a pistol together. Dean's voice was low and steady. No come-ons or debauchery. Serious words about the pistol they were handling. "Never point a gun at someone until you plan to kill them. Loaded or not, a gun is a weapon."

"With no bullet in the chamber?"

"If the other person has a gun and you aim a gun at them, they will shoot. They're not going to ask if yours is loaded." He chided gently.

John sat across from them to monitor Dean's teaching methods and Liz's progress. Their fingers were stained with oil. Just as Liz put the pistol together with only the slightest of prompts, her phone rang. Three heads whipped around to stare at it. Liz tilted her head and rose to pick it up, leaving the gun on the table. "Hello?"

Dean's posture straightened when hers did. Then her shoulders hunched and Dean rose so fast, John felt a draft. "Liz?"

"Just a sec," Liz called over her shoulder. "No… don't… Just don't… Maria, I can't… It's none of your business and it's really not his… Fine… Just for a minute… No, I'm in a different room, now… I'll meet you in the lot." She turned as she hit the end button; her hands raised, she approached Dean. "It's my ex. He needs to tell me something. I'll be a minute. It's not a big deal."

"Want me to come down?"

"No." She reached up to kiss his lips. "I'm coming back. Five minutes, tops. I'll hold him to it." Then she was gone. Dean stood glued to the spot. John took a minute to get his crutches together then opened the door to peer over the railing. Dean was still rooted to the spot.

John watched the lot. A Chevelle had parked behind the Impala. Two different worlds of Chevy with two different worlds of drivers. A tall, dark man climbed out and shoved his hands in his pockets as Liz slowed near the nose of the car. They didn't hug or touch, just stared at each other for a long moment. He leaned against the side of the car and said something that made her cross her arms. Liz said something that made him stiffen. Then she shook her head and looked away. She rolled her head and seemed to listen to someone that John couldn't see. She moved to lean into the car to hear better and be damned if that man didn't check out Liz's ass.

"What? What do you see?" Dean hadn't moved and that was probably a good idea.

"Just talking so far." John called back.

"What's he look like?"

So John took a good long moment to gauge the man who had once captured Liz's heart. "Six foot. Black hair. Needs a haircut. Spends too much time at the gym. Leather jacket, but new and shiny."

"Pussy." Dean muttered to himself and relaxed slightly. "What's he drive?"

"Chevelle. '72. Powder Blue, maybe Metallic glaze. Two door. Soft top. Convertible."

"Seriously?" Dean started for the door but changed his mind and took a step back. "Powder blue? Has he no respect for his car?" Dean chewed that over for a moment. "Does he at least have the black stripes?"

"Not a one." John shook his head. "I think he thinks he's got a GTX."

"What's going on down there?"

"Just talk from the look of it." John watched the body language.

Liz's posture relaxed and an actual smile graced her face. It faded a bit as she straightened. Her ex's eyes shifted everywhere but returned to her. His eyes flicked up to John, held, and then back to Liz. They exchanged a few words. Then Liz straightened and stiffened, addressing someone in the car. A blonde head popped out and Liz shook her head. There was more discussion before the driver's seat was folded forward and a baby was thrust into Liz's arms. John watched the secure way that Liz held the baby against her body. The awe that crept across her face. The sadness. Then he looked at the ex. Who wasn't looking at all.

She kissed the baby's head and handed it back. There was a look exchanged with her ex before Liz began backing away from the car. Liz disappeared out of view. The ex climbed into the car. It drove away but Liz still hadn't emerged from the staircase. "Dean, go get your girl."

Dean didn't have to be told twice. It was a good twenty minutes before they returned to the room with a pair of reddened brown eyes and a pair of concerned green ones. That night, John didn't drink though he needed it. Just listened to the night with its intermittent phrases of "you sure you're okay?" and "I will be."

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Part 9

John stretched his legs and went for a long walk. The plates were still in his leg. He was going to have to either get used to the feeling of metal inside his body or risk the surgery to have them taken out. It was seeming like the latter. The nights had begun to cool. The night had descended while he was out. Figuring it was time to head in, John cut across the parking lot. He would have kept going had he not seen the movement out of his periphery. There it was again. The Impala was moving. Rocking, actually.

He knew better. He did. It didn't stop him from turning to look. From peering into the fogged up windows. For blessing the car that turned up the road and allowed him the view of that silhouette. From watching a second too long. In the end, he was too slow to move on.

The door opened and a cloud of steam escaped into the darkening night. Liz stumbled out and gasped. John kept walking but he was too near the car. Dean laughed and said something in a low voice. Liz shrieked and began slapping him. "Dean! You're a jerk!"

John only turned when he had to take the stairs up. Saw them in each other's arms the way every young couple was at some point. When it's still new enough. When nothing matters more. When it's gonna last forever. Before it stops lasting forever.

Looking for something, anything, to do. John began building a sandwich for his belated dinner. He'd left the door open because it'd become a habit. When the trio was out and about the motel, the door was open. Inviting. Like a dorm room. They were the only ones on this end of the motel which was good because voices carried.

"Because… I can't…"

"I've said it."

"I know… and it means something, I swear it does." Liz's voice was shaky.

"Come on. Just… say it."

"I can't." She pleaded. "I live every day… like it's our last."

"So do I."

"No, you don't. You give and you give and I love that about you but I'm always afraid that when I wake up… I'll be alone and you'll be gone and… if I say it… it'll hurt that much more."

"That's why I said it. I don't want to not have said it if I have to leave." Dean's voice didn't shake at all. It made guilt slam down into John's gut all the harder.

"What if you were gonna stay forever?"

"I wouldn't be so quick to say it. This is good. The way it is. It feels good. If I knew I was gonna stay… I'd probably fuck this up."

"Why don't you stay? You could get a job. We could rent that house down on Mapleleaf."

"Get married and have two-point-five kids? Get a dog and a down payment?"

"Don't make fun."

"Build a guest house and stick Dad in it."

"Dean." She tsked him.

"We'd have to hobble him permanently or he'd run off all the time."

"Dean." There was a long silence. "It's just that… I don't want anything bad to happen to you and fighting these… evil things… just… Stay here."

"What incentive do I get?"

"You're just evading the question."

"Come on. Tell me."

"I love you, Dean. I do… but I don't think that I get to keep you."

"See, was that so hard?"

"Yes, it was."

John stood there with the mustard in one hand and the bread in the other and suddenly felt ill. Abandoning his meal, he brushed past them to escape into the world. He heard them call after him but he didn't really hear them. They were just… a world away. Then John found himself at a pay phone, listening for the ring. Waited for the greeting. "Care to hear my confession, padre?"

"John… where are you?"

"Nowhere special."

"Sam's worried."

"Sam's not trying too hard to find us. Hasn't called me once. He called Dean. The boy still knows our numbers." John took a deep breath. "Jim… I'm walking the edge."

"John, where are you?"

"Don't worry about it, Jim."

"John." A heavy and knowing sigh. "What edge are you walking?"

"Sanity? Morality? Good. Evil. Something like that."

"How's Dean?"

"Fine. He's fine."

"John, are you okay?"

"I'm good. I'm fine."

"Okay. Take care of each other and if you actually feel like talking, you know where my door is."

"Jim."

"John."

"I'm okay. Just… walking a fine line."

"Keep in touch, John. Sam's not taking anyone's calls so… Keep in touch."

John set the phone on the receiver long after the line had disconnected. He knew Dean was waiting. Probably about ten feet away. "I haven't been drinking."

"I didn't say anything. I wouldn't." Dean swore.

"My sources are drying up. I need to get on the road again."

Thought he saw Dean flinch out of the corner of his eye but ignored it. Dean straightened and cleared his throat. "I'll call around and see if anyone needs help."

--

John didn't know what Liz had been told but the way Dean spoke so freely in front of her in the last couple of hours said that she knew a lot more than she had when she had first started up with Dean. Free enough that John had no problem doing a weapons' check with Liz doing her toenails on the next bed. It was hard not to notice. Wearing her uniform, foot propped up on the bed, hunched over like that. Also hard not to notice the singular focus on painting each nail just the right way. Clear. Why bother if it was clear? John waited until Dean had gone to refill some of their supplies to speak up.

Door open, blue sky as far as the eye could see over the Catskills. John stared off into the distance. Liz just waited with him. "When Mary died… Dean stopped talking. Just… shut down and no one and nothing could make him speak. Sometimes, he still does that. Shuts down for a day or so."

"I guess so." John nodded to her although Dean hadn't done it since they had arrived in the little town.

"Six months, I waited for him to start talking again. Started thinking I was doing something wrong if he wasn't talking to me. Tell the truth, I probably was. I didn't handle her death well. Went about everything all wrong." John stared into the blue, wishing to go blind. "We were on the side of the road. The car had overheated. Sammy was asleep in the backseat. I had my head under the hood. Dean was playing in the dirt. The radio on."

Liz waited but John seemed to have gotten lost in the moment. "John?"

"Mary hated my music. Just loathed it… except for one song."

"What's that?"

"All My Love. Led Zeppelin."

"Really."

"She used to walk around humming it. Mostly when she was putting Dean to sleep." John smiled to himself. "So, that day, I was mad cause it was hot out and Dean was hungry, I assumed, and the car was steaming. That song came on the radio and Dean started singing it. "All of my love" were his first words in six months." John could feel the wet in his eyes seeping out. "Six months I was waiting for 'Daddy, I'm hungry' or 'Daddy, take me home' and my little boy starts singing Zeppelin while he's playing in the dirt. I figured he'd be a water fall of speech after that but he… he just didn't start talking. I guess the one thing that never changed was the music. No matter where we were, there was always a radio that always played Led Zeppelin and they always got around to All My Love. I did what I could to encourage it."

"So you're to blame for his classic rock fetish." She teased lightly.

"It was the part of his mother that he could hold on to. It was the only sound he was making and after that silence, I needed to hear his voice. To know that he was still with me. I bought In Through the Out Door on cassette and I played it over and over for him. He would sit in the backseat with Sammy and sing softly. I got more tapes and he kept singing."

"When did he start talking?"

"When Sammy started walking." He laughed. "He had to run and tell me."

Liz did the math in her head. "Sam was a late bloomer?"

"My fault. Too much riding in the car and not enough time spent cruising the motel rooms. I had heard that kids that walk late do everything else late… not Sammy." John felt the tears prick his eyes because he knew what he was doing to Dean and there was not a single good reason for him to do it. "Sammy was a happy baby. Even given our circumstances and growing up without Mary. It was when he reached that age when he was old enough to know better that he stopped being my happy boy."

"What about Dean?"

"Dean was always happiest when he had us by his side, which was pretty much his whole life." John turned his face to look at her. "I wasn't surprised when he moved you in. I was surprised at how fast he became attached to you."

"Why? I already know he's a man-whore but…" She trailed off at the look on his face. "What?"

"You're easy to love, Liz. You're very open. Dean's not. He actively hides from things he's afraid of. You scare him in ways he doesn't know about and when he realizes it, he's going to break your heart."

Her jaw set and she looked away. "I'm not as easy to love as I used to be. Dean and I have no illusions about each other."

"I can't guarantee that we're coming back."

"I know." She nodded. "I've already made arrangements. Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself." She stood, setting her nail polish aside. "But sometimes I think you don't know your son at all." She walked off muttering about John. "Talking to me like I'm some lovesick teenager. Like Dean doesn't talk to me. Like either of them actually talk to each other. Men make me sick."

--

John lowered the radio. Dean wasn't asleep. He wasn't talking. Wasn't chatting. Wasn't even singing along with the radio. Not even when All My Love came on. That's when John knew he was in for it. Dean was not going to yell or talk about it. Dean was going to shut down until he felt better. However long that was. John was just going to have to ride it out.

--

Caleb glanced back at Dean, then looked to John. He side-stepped his way across the room to John's side. "What's with him? Normally I'd've heard about six tales of loose women and bar brawls from him whether I'd asked to hear them or not."

"He ain't been in a bar brawl in months." John shrugged.

"Witch get his tongue?"

"The boy misses… his brother." John cut Caleb a look. "Leave him be. He'll come round soon enough."

The two older men watched over their shoulders as Dean methodically stripped and cleaned every gun on the table. The silence was palpable. John felt an "I told you so" from hundreds of miles away.

When John was through with the research, they had to wait a day to start the hunt. Dean disappeared that night and returned at dawn reeking of booze… and talking like he never stopped. "This one chick… she was stacked to… I mean… just… overflowing that shirt and… she wanted me to demonstrate my… very awesome talents with my tongue."

John looked up when Dean halted his tale. Caleb was bored but that silence made the man straighten and pay attention. John wanted to tell Dean to go on just to fill the silence. The look in those green eyes halted his tongue and made him want to dump Dean off in the Catskills and forget about him. "I wanted to. I tried. I couldn't get it up. Is that normal for a man my age?" Dean's green eyes accused his father. John felt every word that Dean didn't say. "Maybe I was drunk. Too drunk?"

"It happens." Caleb shrugged. "You drinking Tequila? That does it to me from time to time."

"Stick to whiskey." John advised and pointed to the bed. "Sleep it off. We got work tonight."

"Yessir." Dean slurred. He barely got his boots off before he hit the bed and he was passed out before he did.

John didn't dare look at Caleb. Could feel the younger man's eyes burning holes in his head. John wasn't about to admit what he had done. If Dean brought it up, he'd deal with it but… he knew that Dean never would.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

Part 10

Dean cackled as he settled in the ditch. "Shit, that was awesome."

He'd been drunk and drunker for weeks. John was fairly certain that Dean didn't even know where they were. So, it was with great guilt that John steered the Impala while Dean slept it off. He knew where he was going even if he didn't plan the route out. He pulled into the motel and checked in to the room they'd had before. It was vacant. He dropped his things in the room and hesitated before he walked down the walkway to the ice machine. He stared at the door for a full minute and a half before he knocked on the door. It was early and he should have waited but the guilt had been eating him up inside. It was a sleepy-eyed Liz Parker who answered the door. Her brown eyes went wide and she tried to see around him. "John, where is he?"

"In the car. Sleeping it off." John shrugged. "Figured I'd let you know we were here so I could get some sleep and y'all could… do what you do."

"John?" Liz stared up at him.

"I'm tired. I'm going to bed. Good to see you, Liz." John tipped his head at her and turned to go back to his room.

"John, is he okay?" Liz started after him.

He paused at his door to look at her. "No, he's not."

She nodded and made her way down to the Impala without bothering to put shoes on her feet. John didn't wait to see the reunion. He'd have to shoot himself if he watched just how much pain he'd caused his oldest son.

--

The air was too still. John had attempted to go get some lunch when he woke but when he'd passed the ice machine, the noises were just too much. They echoed in his head and he was so wrapped up in what he shouldn't do and what he wanted to and what he needed to do. So John picked up his bottle. John packed his bag. He didn't know where he was going but he was going without Dean.

Walking was always good and since he'd busted his leg, he'd needed to get it working again. The pins caused him pain now and again but going in for removal was just unthinkable. The bottle kept him company through most of the night. Then he'd gotten so turned around that nothing looked familiar. He'd stopped and napped to get his strength. Then he'd walked the better part of a day to end up just where he'd started. No key cause he'd left it behind. Figured Dean'd let the room go. He rented it anew and hauled his sorry ass upstairs to get cleaned up. Liz's room didn't have an answer when he'd knocked. Then he'd started to worry. Bought himself a fresh bottle and parked it upstairs to wait.

John watched the sun go down on the Catskills and wondered where the hell Dean was. No answer on his cell. No trace of him in town. John had made his way through half the bottle when the sun had gone its way and night set in. The light overhead didn't work and shadows engulfed everything. He barely noticed the woman who leaned on the corner wall. She didn't say a word, just stared out at the night with him, her face hidden from him by the shadows. Idly, he wondered how long she'd been standing there. "Nice night for a drink."

"That it is." He mumbled.

"Mind if I join you, handsome?"

"Do as you will."

"I might take you up on that, stranger."

John's whiskey-addled brain could focus on no more than the curves of her hips as she walked over and took his bottle from him. No light to reveal her face when she faced him to hand the bottle back. What the hell? There was no harm in getting some while he could. It would take his mind off the little lady that he couldn't have. He gripped the neck of the bottle over her hand and tugged her closer. She didn't stumble; she swung her leg over both of his with practiced ease. She gripped the bottle and tipped it into his mouth, leaning down to catch what she spilled over his chin. Her other hand slid down his chest, flicking open buttons at random and sliding her fingers in to brush his chest and stomach.

John set the bottle aside, swallowing before letting her take his mouth. Hair fell all around his face as she settled on his lap, grinding against his crotch. John lifted his hands to her face, turning her face away so he could taste the skin of her neck. Let his hands fall down her body, over a handful of breast, curve of waist into hips, thighs to the edge of a skirt. Fingers splayed across soft ass cheeks, John let her rock against him. Let her tease him. Let her fingers do their walking across his chest, pausing to rub and flick his nipples, run along his abs and down to tear at the buttons on his jeans.

Her mouth mashed against his as her hands tugged his jeans out of the way, shoved his boxers down. Warm, soft hands on his hard flesh, pumping while he tasted her breath, her mouth, her skin. Sweat and bacon grease and the tang of perfume. John tried to pull her hips against his but she backed away, sliding off his legs and pulling away from his mouth. No warning what so ever before her hot mouth slid over the head of his cock. Fingers brushing through her hair, John let her go to it. Tipping his head back against the slide of her tongue on the underside of his erection. Moaning when the suction was just that good. Hips bucking when her lips pressed in the middle, tongue fluttering along the throbbing vein.

John tried to gently pull her off but with a shake of her head, she took him in deeper. Frowning at the movement, John could feel his balls tightening. Her hands slid around his wrists, pulling his hands out of her hair. His eyes focused on her hands around his wrists. His mind's eye saw a pair of golden wrists inside the same pair of hands. Before he could fully process what that meant, John's mouth hung open and he came hard into a humming mouth.

When he was able to form thoughts again, she was sitting on his lap, fingers pulling open the remainder of his shirt buttons, mouth smoothing over his neck then blowing her salty breath into his mouth before taking his mouth, letting him taste himself on her tongue. She hummed as she pulled away. "John, it's been a long time."

"Liz?" John's shaking hands found their way to either side of her face.

"Of course it's me." She settled herself heavily against him. "Who else gets you off in public?"

Her voice had a bit of warning in it. Licking his lips to wet them, suddenly gone dry, he stared up at her. "Thought I was dreaming."

"How much have you drunk?" She picked up the bottle to look at it. "Don't tell me this is a new bottle."

"Maybe."

"John, you know you shouldn't drink so much." She leaned even heavier against him and capped the bottle.

He stared at her. Still unsure what he was seeing. What he was experiencing. She was different somehow and not just in what she'd just done to him. "Been calling Dean."

Her eyes softened and she buried her face in his neck. "John, don't drink so much."

"Liz?"

"John, you know he's gone. Come home. See Jack. He misses you."

"Maybe." He hedged.

She looked away, blinking back tears, biting her lip in a way that was no sort of good. "John, you're the only father he's ever known. He only knows Dean from pictures. He needs you. He's getting to the age where my talks do nothing for him. He needs you. You were a good father, I think. You said you'd try to do it again… but I don't see you trying and that hurts me more than you staying away for so long." She stood and straightened her clothes. "And I'm not mad. I'm disappointed."

John watched her disappear around the corner and wondered what in the hell had happened. Suddenly sober, he looked over the town. The tree overgrown and blocking his sight. He stumbled back to the room and called the front desk. "Sorry to bother you ma'am, but could you read me the date, including the year? Numbers get stuck in my head sometimes." He waited as she read the numbers off. "Thank you, darlin'."

Hanging up the phone, he picked up his bag and walked down the path to Liz's room by the ice machine. It was vacant when he picked the lock. Looked unused. He walked out and glanced around. She had known where he was. How had she known? Then he spotted the lights on in a set of windows over a store that was closed. Hiking up the stairs, he waited outside the door but thought better and snuck a peek through the window. Liz stood over the table, rubbing her lower back while she listened to the boy at the table read out loud from a book that was laid open. She smiled and said something that John couldn't hear. There was a roll of the head and shoulders that made John's heart leap. That boy was every inch Dean Winchester's son. John Winchester's grandson. His grandson… growing up without his daddy. Dean's ashes long salted, burned and scattered.

That's what made the dots connect. That boy was about ten years old. Those trees had grown. Those woods. John turned and stared off into them. What did they do? Was it magic? Was it haunted? Was it Reapers or Djinn? He walked back into them. Sober and surefooted. He walked a path that he had made a year earlier. At dawn he emerged at his starting point. His true starting point. He climbed the stairs and there they were. Drinking coffee on the landing. He edged past to put his pack away and wash up. He joined them, drinking the coffee and drinking in the sight of the two of them.

John stared at her. 21 and not a line on her face; not a grey hair on her head. Not a lustful look tossed in John's direction. Liz laughed at something Dean said and reached out to shove John away. Her hand connected with his stomach, causing him to tense up. Liz stared at him. "Wow, Papa Winchester is Papa Six-pack."

"Dad, been working out?" Dean punched him in the arm.

"Keeping in shape." John shrugged them off and removed Liz's hand from his shirt. He looked at Dean's smile. Genuine and bright and not the moody brat who had shared his space since last they had seen Liz.

"You out catting around last night?" Dean ribbed him. "Found an alley cat to howl with?"

"Dean!" Liz screeched and slugged him. "That is none of our business."

"What? You agreed that he walked up here smelling like sex."

"Dean!" Liz slugged him again. "Stop it. That's inappropriate."

John felt his face turning red. He sipped his coffee and ignored Dean's jibes just so that he could listen to his firstborn talk. Listen to him laugh and breathe and love that woman while he could. John vowed that whatever it took, his boy would not be dead while his child was growing up without him.

"What's that?" Dean frowned at his father.

John drained his cup. "I said, well it's not like I was the only one."

"You guys are horrible!" She exclaimed and shoved off the rail. "I'm going to go get some lunch."

Dean leaned on the railing and sipped his coffee. The silence was not heavy and John was grateful for it. "Nice surprise, waking up to her face. Even better not waking up to yours."

"Right back at you, son." John stared into his cup.

--

John buried himself in his books. Studying and not talking. Dean knew enough to leave him to it. Didn't ask. Just enjoyed the time he'd been allotted with Liz. John couldn't find anything in the books, local lore, about time shifts or possessed woods or sprites. None of the signs matched. It made John wonder if the woods were a man-made phenomenon or if it were so old no one knew or if it were enchanted so that no one remembered. Then it happened. John saw the signs he was beginning to recognize. He hauled Dean out of bed in the middle of the night to go chasing it.

Dead end. Dean was quiet but not silent about it. That was better than silence. Dean did as ordered. He didn't complain but John felt the weight of his stare occasionally. So after the hunt. John sent Dean on a small series of hunts. Told him to meet up at Liz's in two months. John spent the time alone, doing his homework. Studying lore in everyone's libraries, getting chased off when they couldn't take his entitlement issues anymore.

Then there was only one thing to do. Go back. John drove to a town away and hiked back to the woods. He was ready. He had to know what and why and how. If he could stop it, he would. His mind raced as he stepped through time. Where was Sam? Was Sam safe? How did his oldest son die? Why was there a child from Liz's womb who would look to John as father? Why any of it?

--

John stepped into the room slowly while Liz bustled about getting things done. He'd already agreed to stand in as babysitter but he'd never met the kid. He wandered about carefully, eying toys and scanning for pictures. Which he found on one high shelf and along the same wall. Pictures from the last ten years. Pictures that surprised him.

Dean with the baby. Broad smile, bright green eyes tinged with wetness.

John with the baby, not even looking at the camera. Eyes only for the first grandson. First son of his first son.

John, Liz and a toddler in the front lot, sitting on the car.

John sitting with Liz on his lap, her head leaning against his, the boy sitting on John's other leg.

John and the boy trying a bicycle out, no training wheels.

John asleep with the toddler asleep on his chest

The kid and Liz playing with a bunch of blocks.

John tossing a ball with the kid.

Tears sprung to his eye as he realized everything that he'd not been able to do with his boys when they were growing up because of his bent on vengeance. Little league, soccer, dribblers, riding bikes, boy scouts.

"John, stop looking at those pictures. You always start leaking like a faucet." Liz called out. John wiped at his face. "I was just kidding." She stepped into the room and froze. "John? Were you actually crying?"

"Dean…" John gestured to the pictures. "Never seen him look so happy and then… to just…"

"Yeah." Liz nodded, pulling her purse over her shoulder. She stepped into John's side, stroking softly against his back. She kissed his shoulder and gave his belly a rub. "He's pouting in his room. I didn't tell him you were here yet. Thought I'd give you a few minutes to strategize."

"Okay." John nodded and tried not to freeze up when she leaned in for a goodbye kiss. He watched her go. Then he studied the pictures for another long moment then snuck down the hallway to find 'the kid.' He was indeed pouting in his room, glaring at his homework and rolling a pencil around on the desk. John cleared his throat. "What kind of marks are you gonna get if you put off doing your homework?"

"Pop!" Jack spun around and raced for the door. John was barely able to stop both of them from toppling over. "When did you get back?"

"Just a few minutes ago." John hugged the boy back. "The warden's gone to work."

"Did she tell you what I did?"

"Why don't you tell me what you did?"

"It was… never mind."

"Come on, pal. Tell me."

"Some guy at school said something and I hit him."

"Okay. What did he say?"

"Well, I got a question first."

"What's the question?"

"What's 'white trash' mean?"

John stared at the boy for a long moment. "Lots of times… it's about people who live dirty cause they don't know better or can't afford to live clean." He took a breath. "Sometimes it's the way people behave, without regards to rules. The thing is… the people who say other people are white trash… they just plain don't understand that the needs and means of others are different." John hoped he made some kind of sense because he suspected that he already knew where this was going.

"A boy at school said our family is white trash." And there it was.

"I figured as much." John nodded. "It's really best not to respond when someone says that because it only reinforces their belief but I might have done the same thing."

"Why'd he call us that? We don't live dirty."

"Like I said… sometimes it's not about dirty or poor… it's other things."

"Like what."

"Son… Me and my boys been called all sorts of trash all their lives. Because I don't stay in one place too long. Cause they think I beat my kids, cause I drink a lot more than anyone should. Cause I own a lot of guns." Took a deep breath. "Some said I killed my wife. Some say I was never married and my boys was from different mothers."

"And that made them trash?"

"To some people. Yeah."

"So… they might not understand why you don't got a job?"

"Maybe."

"Or that you're my grandpa but I say Happy Father's day to you?"

"Possibly."

"The kid said it was because my mom loves my grandpa more than she did my dad."

"That's not true but I understand why you hit him."

"Does he think it's wrong?" The boy blinked. "That you're… in love with my mom?"

"A lot of people do."

"Why?"

"Because it's not normal."

"Why?"

"Because other kids' dads don't die young." John sank onto the narrow bed. "Because it's not what families do." It was clear the boy didn't understand. If John had actually been the Winchester who had raised the boy, he might have been able to answer better, but he wasn't. "Jack… I met your mom the same day your dad did. She and I became good friends."

"And my dad?"

"Well, they were better than friends." John had himself a grin at the memory of his son's love struck face. "I don't know if your mom ever told you but she was married before."

"She was?"

"To a man that I've never met. She was young and it didn't last long. She thought she would never fall in love again. Then she met your dad." John cleared his throat. "My wife died when your dad was a little boy. I never remarried and I never really loved again. After we both lost your dad, we stuck together because we were hurting without him. You were only a few months old."

"So?"

"So, we spent a lot of time together with a very painful and significant thing in common. You're too young to get the boys and the girls and the feelings but your mom and me… we shared love. For your father, for you and for each other after a time. It's not normal… and that's why that boy at school said what he did." John touched the boy's shoulder. "It's not normal but it don't hurt no one."

--

John looked through everything that Liz had but couldn't find any clue to what had killed his first born son. It made him wonder. Then Jack came out of his room and perched on the arm of the couch. John held up the picture. "Jack, tell me what you know of this guy and maybe I can tell you some more."

Jack shrugged. "He's my dad."

"Know anything more than that?"

"He died cause a Werewolf bit him and he… needed to be shot." Jack's eyes lowered. "Mom said you did it but that…"

"It had to be done. There's no cure for a Werewolf bite. Your dad… he knew that. He was my boy and I would have done anything to keep him alive." John stared at the picture of his boy and his boy. "I had a picture like this once." Jack sat, transfixed. "Of me holding your dad and I can guarantee I looked just like that. Loved my boy."

John found his seat and found Jack on his lap a moment later. "Your grandma was a pretty woman. Different from your mom. She was blonde and she had green eyes. Stole my heart the minute she said she'd go out with me."

"How'd she die?"

"Demon."

"How did Mom meet Dad?"

"I got tired of your dad yapping my ear off and I pulled over to eat some breakfast. Your mom was our waitress."

"Wow. She's worked there a long time, huh."

"All your life and then some."

"When did they get married?"

"Never legally. Common law. That means that they acted like husband and wife and did that for a long while. It's not… accepted in this state but um… your dad was a citizen of the country, not the state. Probably your mom, too. They had their own rules. She took his name and you have it on your birth certificate."

"Jack Samuel Winchester."

"That's right." John felt his throat close up at the sound of his second son's name on the lips of his grandchild.

"Mom says that I'm named Jack after you. Why Samuel?"

"It's time for bed, kiddo." John avoided that question and the boy let him. Every inch his father's son. He never disobeyed an order. Jack simply kissed his grandfather's face and hopped to the ground. A moment later, John heard the door shut. Then he heard the footsteps. "How long have you been hiding in the kitchen?"

"Not long." Liz leaned over him. "Busy night all around, huh. I'm gonna shower. Meet you in bed."

John didn't know what to do with that. But his weary bones made it from the couch to check the doors and windows. To the bed where he shucked his boots and jacket. He didn't do more than lay back on the pillows when she emerged in a long flannel nightgown and scooted across to lay her head on his shoulder. "I try to tell him about Dean. He wants to hear about you. He'll listen to you if you talk about Dean."

"I'll try that."

"I know that you just got in but…" Liz snuggled close. "I am in the mood but… it's that time… so if you can hold out a couple of days, I can greet you proper."

John stared down at the top of her head. "That time?"

She picked up her head and rolled her eyes. "Ovulation time."

"Right." He hoped he could fake his way through this conversation because he had no clue what that was about.

"Our family tree has some interesting forks in it; I'm not looking to add any more." She pointed out.

"Of course. Right."

"You okay?"

"Tired." John struggled to put the pieces of the puzzle together but he wasn't altogether convinced that he wasn't dreaming or hallucinating. He wondered what would happen if he fell asleep in this world. Would he wake up in his own world? Was there even a difference?

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

Part 11

John woke alone and in a bed he only remembered from what he thought was a dream. Dawn was peeking in through the window curtains and the sounds of a family drifted to him. It broke his heart. He hadn't heard those sounds in 20 years. A mother making breakfast and chiding a little boy to get ready and to hurry up and eat. Dean had been to preschool. John remembered those mornings, foggily. It wasn't the first time he regretted not paying more attention to those mundane days of Mary getting up to get Dean up, to get breakfast ready, to get the baby changed.

Slipping out of bed, he washed up and followed the noise. Jack ate in silence. Liz dumped another spoonful of oatmeal into the bowl and made a noise that sounded like 'keep eating' but her mouth was full of toast. She smiled at him and waved to the table and the coffee pot. John took another moment to soak it all in before crossing the room to get at that coffee.

Liz kissed his mouth lightly the second he put the mug down. "Morning."

"Morning." He grumbled and found a seat next to his grandson. His grandson. Miniature Dean. Even had the same table manners. "Napkin, Jack."

"Yessir." He mumbled around his mouthful but dutifully picked up his napkin to wipe his face.

John sipped his coffee and watched the boy. The nose was softer than a Winchester's but it suited his face. Watched the boy smile at his mother and finish his breakfast. "What's next?"

"Teeth." Jack tossed out immediately.

"I see. When Pop's here, then you're a good little soldier." Liz called after the boy when he ran to get his teeth brushed.

"Don't call him that." John blurted out.

"It's a nickname, John. You and Dean already went to blows over it. I know. It's a nickname." She reassured him. "No hunting, no demons, no ghosts, no aliens. I know."

Aliens. He almost said it out loud. Was it a joke? Was it a code? There were no such thing as aliens. John drained his cup and went to pour himself another but Liz was pouring out the pot. "What?"

"It's not good for you to have so much."

"You gonna take away my burgers too?"

"You bet." Liz turned when Jack slid into the room. She kissed his head. "No fights, no detention and no alien graffiti."

"I know, I know."

"Jack." John cleared his throat.

"Yes ma'am." Jack sighed and grabbed his book bag to catch the bus that was just pulling up.

They existed in silence while Liz cleaned up breakfast. John didn't know what to do. Didn't know what he was supposed to know. "Your friends been up?"

"Why do you always call them that? You know their names." Liz scoffed as she put the last of the dishes in the dishwasher. She took a deep breath. "They were here for about a week after you took off on me that last night. I'm not going to argue with you about it but I just want it noted that I feel you ran off on me." She turned to face him and he nodded that it was her right to feel that way. "Maria's girl is so tall. She's dating already, if you can believe that."

"She's… twelve."

"I know. Michael's pulled most of his hair out. Max spoils her rotten, of course."

"Max was here?"

"Don't start." Liz groaned and crossed to straddle his lap. "You know how it goes. I tell you. I always have. He shows up with them. We have fun catching up and we stare at each other. We don't talk. We don't work out any issues. We just stare at each other. He's starting to spoil Jack, though."

"Yeah?"

"Bought him a rifle. Remington. Jack gave it back."

"Well, the boy knows his last name." John managed a grin. Liz kissed his lips softly. "He wants you back."

"No. We burned that bridge already." She shrugged and sat there, fiddling with his dog tags. "John… That was a long time ago. It wasn't him. It wasn't me. It was us and it didn't work." They didn't talk about Dean. Not about the relationship and the before. "I've had you for most of Jack's life." She met his eyes. "I'm not looking to trade you in. Maybe you've got a few miles on you but… you're not falling apart just yet. If anything…" she kissed him softly. "You've managed to stay exactly as you've been for the last fifteen years."

"You're putting me on." He tried to hide his unease at her comments. If anyone in this world would know that John wasn't attuned to what was going on, it would be her. If he managed to fool her this long, he was damn lucky.

"John, you're the best looking 65 year old that I have ever seen." She bit her lip and took a deep breath. "I have to tell you something and it's going to scare the crap out of you but I need you to know." She laid a hand on his chest. "About five months ago… Jack had a bad dream. He woke up terrified and he thought that you were dead. He had me convinced of it for about a week. I heard that you were prowling around from the new girl at the motel. I got worried when you didn't come by. I was really relieved a few months later when I saw you up there. I was really afraid his dream had come true."

"Do his dreams come true?"

"They haven't before but with his other powers and my visions sometimes…" She sat back to see him better. "John… did you… almost die?"

"It's easier to ask me when that doesn't happen."

"It's not funny. I'm being serious." She gripped his shoulders, hard. "What if he saw you almost die? I talked him out of it pretty easily but the next time will be harder and I had my doubts the entire time you were gone."

"Liz."

"John, we lost Dean to the hunt. I won't lose you, too."

He met her worried eyes and didn't know what to say to make her feel better. He'd never had to have this conversation with anyone before. "You should get to work."

"This isn't over." Liz shoved him back as she got to her feet.

John sat there and mulled over everything. He was crazy. That had to be it. He'd had a psychotic break and this was the beginning of the end. Gathering his belongings, he headed for the woods. He marked trees with his knife along the way. He had to find out how to stop it. How to take his knowledge and best apply it to the world he knew. Werewolves were easy. Silver bullet. Job was done.

Emerging from the woods, he backtracked to his truck, which was just where he'd left it only now it was wearing a tow sticker and a boot. Cursing, he marched himself back to the damned motel and didn't bother knocking when he got to the room he always rented. He dumped his shit on the ground and walked right back out. Of all the things he could have walked into, it had to be that. He was tired and hungry and he needed a shower because he smelled like Liz. Even under all the sweat and dirt and woods, he smelled like Liz. Like 36 year old Liz had been all over him and she had been. 21 year old Liz was currently all over Dean. As it should be.

Whipping out his cell phone, he called Jefferson. "Hear of any werewolf activity?"

"Not in years, John. Sent you after the last one I did hear about."

"Keep an ear out."

"You on to something? I can always use the clues."

"Just a rumor. Probably drunks."

"Aren't they always? I'll keep you in mind for hunts. Almost seems like activity is winding down."

"It usually winds itself back up. Give me a call on anything you need help with."

"Shut up!" John heard from behind him. "No! I'm mortified!"

John cleared his throat. "I'll be in touch, Jefferson."

"Yeah. Tell Dean I got a new glock in. He'll love it."

"He'll never trade off that talisman, Jeff."

"I can keep trying."

John laughed as the call disconnected. Dean popped out of the room as if nothing had happened, as if his hair was not standing on end. "So, what? You just got here?"

"Yeah."

"Talked to Caleb. Said you headed this way a few days ago. Thought you'd beat me here."

"Caleb smokes too much pot."

"He still does that? I told him that it would shrink his sink." Dean shook his head. "So… um… Liz isn't coming out of the room ever again cause you saw… cause you saw what you saw."

"It's called a lock, Dean." John took a deep breath. "I'm tired and I want a bed… so… something's gotta give in the next ten minutes."

"Okay. I'll pass the message."

Once more, John was alone on the landing. Every time he shut his eyes, he either saw Liz as she leaned in to kiss his mouth or he saw Liz as she arched her back on top of Dean. Where was his flask when he needed it? In his bag, empty. He needed a clear head anyway. There was a lot of research to do and he had to do the math. If Jack had been 10 years old, when was he born? How far off was that? How long did he have to save his son?

"Fine." Liz's voice reached John's ear. Cleaned up, the two made their way down the walkway past John. "Welcome home, John."

John nodded to the whisper and retreated to the room which had been opened up to clear the smell. Hitting his bed, he tried to put the pieces together. He could find the werewolf and kill it ahead of schedule and save everyone a whole lot of grief. How did he find a werewolf that wouldn't attack for three years?

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

Part 12

John let himself return. Told Dean he was gonna meet up with a friend for research. Let him stay behind and play house with Liz. He had to deal with a pissed off Future Liz but he managed to make her believe that he was contrite and he was going to stick around. Spent his days in the library looking for anything that would give him a clue to what had happened to his boy. He had a time frame. He had a manner of death. He just needed to know where it had happened.

His eyes burned after hours of searching the engines the libraries had switched to after getting rid of the microfiche. Then he found it. New Mexico. Werewolves seemed to love the west. Odd deaths that week. Four maulings and a gunshot victim, shot with a single silver round. Nice girl, everyone loved her. John memorized every detail but he wrote it down. He just didn't know if it would make the trip home with him or if it would mystically disappear the second he returned to the lovebirds in the motel.

He had four chances to stop the chain before it got to his boy and he'd be damned if it were going to get him. He could trace the wolf back to Colorado. To a young man. A young man about to be mauled on his 18th birthday if John didn't hightail it across the country ASAP.

Only he got caught when he was packing his things. Liz stared at him from the doorway. Her eyes were hard and cold. John pretended not to notice. "Werewolf. I have to go."

"You got the one that got Dean. Leave it to someone else." Her eyes softened but only a bit.

"If I don't go…" John cut himself off. He couldn't know who the victim was.

"I know!" She snapped at him. "People will die. They will always die, John. Always. Werewolf or aliens or ghosts or shootouts or cancer or… just fucking old age. People die and you can't save them all."

"If I don't go, that's one more person who will die the way Dean did."

"Just go." She crossed her arms over her chest and stood aside when he moved to the doorway. "John." She didn't meet his eyes. "You'd tell me if this wasn't working out, right?" When he didn't answer her, she lifted her face. "Tell me if I've got it wrong. Please tell me if I'm being… is there someone else?"

John searched his mind vainly for the slip he'd made. Had he said something? Done something… not… done… something? Shit! He hadn't made a single move on her. He'd played the role of routine but hadn't pressed for what he'd wanted, for what he was afraid to want. Maybe he'd done it on purpose because he didn't want to like it. Didn't want to miss it when he was back in the world where she was 21 and blushing when sex was mentioned outside the confines of the sheets she shared with Dean. "Liz…"

"Just tell me and I'll leave it alone. You can't drag me along this way."

"Liz!" John raised his voice just enough to get her attention. "Trust me. I'm not sleeping with anyone… and I guess that includes you… I've been-"

"Apparently holed up at the library." She nodded, getting herself under control. She wrapped her hands in the folds of his jacket to pull him closer. She kissed him for all she was worth and had to catch herself before she sank to her knees. "John… you come back to me and I'll give you one hell of a hero's welcome."

"I'll come back." John lied. He planned to kill this thing, save his son and never return to the fucking Catskills if he could avoid it. "I will."

"I'll see you." Liz let go of him and didn't move until he was out the door and down the stairs.

John tried not to run for the woods. He had to keep his pace steady. He didn't know how he was going to look Liz in the eye after all this. Not when he had let this Liz take his mouth that way. Not when he had given as good as he got. Not when he had consciously pressed his body against hers so she could feel… He couldn't.

Pushed his way through the woods. Every time he licked his lips, he could taste her. He cursed the rest of the way out of the woods and up the stairs to an empty room. "What in the hell?"

Dropping his bag on the floor, he made his way to the front desk. The girl silently slid him a key that he didn't need. When he didn't take it, she looked up. "Can I help you?"

"Looking for my boy."

"Helping Liz get moved in." She pointed across the lot to the little store that John knew better than he should. Paling, he moved toward the door and couldn't remember opening it. He moved across the lot and caught Liz as she was carrying empty boxes down the stairs. She saw him and smiled.

"Liz," he nodded.

"Hi John! Grab your things. I've got an extra room. No more dirty motel." She jogged up the stairs where Dean was probably doing something hardly helpful but 100 manly.

John tried to control his heart rate as he climbed the stairs and entered the apartment he'd exited about 8 hours before and 15 years into the future. The walls were bare. There were no shelves because Dean was in the middle of building them. John gave an interested nod and Dean took that as all the encouragement he needed. "I spent the last week designing this thing. It's gonna be awesome."

"Designed it?" John heard his voice come out naturally but he had no clue how.

"Yeah. I mean…" Dean deflated a little. "Liz wanted this big bad shelf from IKEA but it's like… a thousand dollars. I cut all the pieces I'm gonna need. I can have it built by sundown."

John watched his boy's shoulders hunch just a bit more. "If I help, we can have it done in a few hours and you can come with me to Colorado."

"What's in Colorado?" Dean's confidence came back but the curiosity in his voice wasn't what John was accustomed to.

"Werewolf."

"You're shitting me. A werewolf?" Dean's face really brightened at that. "Awesome. We haven't seen one of those since…" Sam was around to play bait. "I was a kid. Hell… what was I? 12?"

"13." John corrected. That was a memorable birthday for Dean all around.

"Yeah, I guess it was on my birthday." Dean nodded as he bent to adjust a board. He hammered two nails into place just as Liz returned from a back room.

"Looking good." She nodded to him. "Two more nails than were in it an hour ago."

"I'm here to help with that." John offered and got himself busy studying Dean's sketches.

"Uh-huh. Go get your bags already." Liz chided him.

"We're heading out, tonight." John avoided her eyes.

"A werewolf. Man, Liz… My 13th birthday was the most awesome ever because of a werewolf." Dean accepted John's help to steady boards. He told his story between hammer strikes. "Betsy from Illinois gave me my first kiss with tongue and let me touch her boob. Then I got home and there was pizza and cake from a box, not from the store or Little Debbie. Then the full moon rose and we went out and killed us a werewolf."

"Sounds like fun." Liz commented dryly. "I had a sleepover and we listened to Maria tell us about how Doug Sahn had used tongue on her."

"See! My childhood wasn't that far outside normal." He grinned at her.

Liz rolled her eyes and looked to John, who had a sort of sad sheen to his eyes. She bit her tongue and grabbed another bunch of empty boxes. "Do you guys have to leave tonight? I sort of had a breaking in party planned."

"Full moon's tomorrow night." Dean answered automatically. "The beast will be rampaging and some poor sap will either die or become the beast."

John felt just a touch of the Liz he'd left behind through the woods. She was staring at Dean through much more innocent eyes but it was just the same. John cleared his throat. "Dean. Let's get this thing done."

John stared around the apartment and seeing it had shocked him but even more than that. He realized they were building the shelf that would one day house the pictures that had defined that future life for him. A life without Dean. When they were done, he watched Dean use a fine piece of sandpaper to smooth over the nicks they'd made with the hammers. Then they had stood it upright and John didn't even ask before he moved to put it up against the wall. Dean had blinked at him but stood back when they were done and admired its placement. "Good job, son."

"Wow." Liz cooed from the doorway where she was sipping on a bottle of beer. "Color me amazed. I didn't think it could be done in three days and you proved me wrong."

Her tone was all wrong for her words. John knew what was coming. Dean didn't. Poor guy was so proud of himself. His smile bright and wide. Eyes bright and glittering. He backed up to take in the whole room. "I could build another one for that wall and you can put all those girly things you like to make."

"Yeah, and I can put your ashes there on the top. Bronze or copper? Consecrated iron, right?" She took a long pull, her brown eyes glittering dangerously. John took that moment to make his exit. He gathered his things from the floor of the room and tucked them into the Impala just as Dean was making his way down.

Dean sulked in the passenger seat for an hour before he started in on his woman-hating rant. It didn't let up until they had crossed four state lines. Then he had stopped to catch his breath with what had sounded like a panic attack. John did his best to pretend that he didn't hear any of it. When Dean had returned to normal, John cleared his throat. "It's just a lover's spat. By the time we get back, she'll be so grateful that you're there, she'll forget about the whole thing."

"Right." Dean muttered.

--

The hunt was simple. John had the inside track. Dean's head was not in it and it was a close call but in the end, the werewolf died without infecting anyone else. Dean knelt next to the body and lifted his eyes to see his father. "If I ever get turned into one of these bad boys, you shoot me."

John's heart froze. He fumbled for his words. "Dean…"

"I'm being serious. I'd rather die than be one of those things."

"I won't ever let it happen." John promised. Something must have leaked onto his face because Dean frowned suddenly at whatever he'd seen on his father's face. "I won't."

"Good." Dean nodded. "Let's burn this bitch. I got phone calls to make."

John burst out laughing. In relief, incredulity. It just felt good. His boy was alive and the thing that would have killed him would never be. His boy was henpecked.

Dean watched his father and grinned. It had been a long time since he'd seen his father laugh like that. "C'mon. Let's burn it."

--

John was finishing up in the bathroom when he heard the murmur. Stilling his movement, he slowly pulled the towel off his head. Dean on the phone, sure but… Oh God… John took his time getting dressed and made sure to linger a few more minutes before banging the bathroom door open. Dean hopped up and grabbed his things for his turn in the shower. John just hoped that the boy cleaned up after himself.

His phone sat abandoned in the middle of the bed. John flicked it to the floor with a shoe before sitting to take inventory of their laundry. Then Dean's phone rang. Sighing, John heaved himself to his feet to retrieve the thing. He answered without looking. "Listen, darlin', he's gonna have to call you back." Silence. "Darlin'?" Silence and then a click followed by the beep which signaled disconnect. John frowned and looked at the phone. Sam. "Shit."

He sat there staring at the phone until Dean emerged from the shower. Dean had taken the phone from his hand and blinked at the display. "What did he say?"

"Not a word."

"Dad, what'd he say?"

"Nothing. I answered the phone. He didn't say anything. Just hung up."

"That fucking pussy." Dean growled something about a good night and the little punk didn't need to be present to ruin it.

"Enough. Let's hit the hay. We'll be back in time for you to bless the house before she wants to lock you out of it." John pulled back the sheets and climbed into his bed. He shut his mind off and pretended to sleep. It got harder when Dean took his phone outside and had a roaring fight with his brother. John could only make out some highlights.

"He's your father, of course he loves you!" Dean's words were muffled by the glass and curtains but not by much. "Well that's none of your goddamn business. You gave up your right to know about us when you walked out that door… and I know that!"

John almost sat up to find out which words he was missing out on. "I bought you that ticket because I figured that if I supported you that you would try… well, you're not. Every single time we talk, we fight. You don't talk to Dad and I'm telling you that he would talk to you if you called him. I never would have bought you that damned bus ticket if I thought you were going to walk out and leave us behind… What did I expect?! Not silence! … No! I figured you'd go to college and you would check in. Just like when we go on hunts, just like always. I didn't think you'd drop off the map. Dad says you're not even talking to Pastor Jim and you know that is killing the old man."

There was a long silence. "Look. I love you, man. You're my brother and… I can't talk to you these days. Even if you did call. There's no place for you in our world anymore and… It's killing Dad and I can't stand to see him the way he gets after he knows that you call me… Maybe he doesn't need to. Maybe he knew something that I didn't. He doesn't have to call you. He brought you into this world, you know… Look. I'm tired. We just got off a hunt with no sleep and… Well, I can guarantee you that I haven't slept in two days and Dad was on the road for who knows how long before that… Well, anyway. I'm beat. Dad's beat and we got a long drive tomorrow… I hate fighting with you and… well, truthfully there's a lot about our lives that I'd like you to know but… Well, I'm not going to tell you if you're going to pretend we don't exist. It doesn't matter for you to know if you aren't going to be in this life with us. Night, Sammy."

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

Part 13

John sent Dean in alone to the new place. Didn't wait to see the reunion. He would go through the woods one last time… just to make sure that all was as it should be. His brain was crammed full of information. Sammy at the forefront. All he had was Dean's end of the conversation but it painted enough from Dean's end that John had a clue about what Sam was still on about. It pained him that Sam thought he wasn't loved anymore. John honestly didn't know how to talk to the boy after all the hateful things that had come out of both their mouths.

John emerged from the woods then checked into the motel, in his usual room. He waited until sundown to creep across the parking lot. Liz was waiting at the kitchen table with a glass of something that smelled sweet but had a hint of bitter behind it. She tried to hide a smile but she didn't do so well with that. "The wandering hero returns victorious?"

"Depends." John watched her carefully. Surely Dean would step out of a room somewhere with Jack in tow.

Her smile saddened a bit. She leaned against the table, regarding him from beneath her eyelashes. "John. I've told you this a hundred times and I really wish you'd take it to heart. The Demon is gone. Dean is gone. You kill every werewolf and changeling out there and you still won't settle down. I never blamed you for Dean… so… I just can't figure out why you won't sit still." She finally looked at him. "I will take care of you and I know that you're not someone who needs taking care of but… you can stay here. With us."

The Demon was gone? He blinked at her. If the Demon was gone, why hadn't John slowed down? What had kept him from settling down? Werewolves? Avenging Dean? He pulled up a chair and took a long swallow of her drink, which turned out to be liberally dosed with rum. Liz's hand wrapped around his wrist. "John, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Ghosts, everywhere, Liz." He polished off the glass with another long swallow. "Buried my wife, my boy."

"Well, you've got a grandson, a lover and son who is still out there somewhere…" Her voice trailed off. "Are you looking for Sam?"

John stilled.

"He won't be found if he doesn't want to be found." She whispered to him as she invaded his space and straddled his lap, forcing him to rest his head on her sternum. She raked her fingers through his hair, massaging the base of his cranium. "Just… let it all go for one night, John."

Arms wrapped around her waist, forehead against her collarbone, John just breathed for a moment. Let the panic go away. Let the weight shift off his shoulders for a moment. Breathed in the scent of woman. Of sweat and rum. Of spaghetti-os and brownies. Her fingers slowed their rake but changed the pattern so that she could kiss the top of his head. The rum had made his brain just fuzzy enough that he didn't care that the breasts his face was pressed into belonged to a girl young enough to be his daughter. He didn't care that the ass in his hands was firmer than any his age. Pulling her more firmly against him, he took a deep breath; inhaling all the scents of the day off her body. Smoothed his palms over her shoulder blades, barely any softness there, then down her ribs which had just enough meat to keep him from feeling her bones. His hands dipped at her waist and spread over her ass, hips and thighs. Her hips hitched, rubbing and searching until she rubbed just right over his crotch.

Eyes closed but not squeezed shut, John opened his mouth over one mound and then the other, creating wet spots on her thin shirt. Sucking lightly until he found the hardening nipples through thin fabric. The fingers in his hair tightened. He yanked her hips forward before catching the hem of her shirt and dragging upwards until he was able to get his nose beneath it and pressed his lips to her skin. She made a little noise in her throat, her hands sliding down to his shoulders for a better anchor. Then his name purred off her lips starting somewhere deep in her chest and just barely escaping her throat.

Didn't remember standing up, much less walking, but John deposited her on the bed before shrugging out of his flannel and pulling his undershirt over his head, staring at her the whole while. Wondering if she'd disappear or if he'd wake up. Watched her arch one way and then another to get her shirt off and then go to work on her jeans. He kicked his boots off and dropped trou just as she was working on getting her feet free of her jeans and her little blue underwear.

Crawling up her body, John stared down at her expectant face knowing that he hadn't had enough to drink that he couldn't turn back now; not enough that he could blame this on the half a glass of rum and coke he'd tossed back in the kitchen. Caught her mouth before allowing his body to fall towards hers. Tasted skin and sweat and let his mouth wander when she began sliding upward, grateful when she slid back down beneath him. Her hands worked deftly to rip open a packet and to slide it home over his throbbing erection. Easy and practiced for her but a move that caused the blood to roar in his ears.

Her hands danced their way up his body, her eyebrow arching when her fingers slid back down over his stomach. "Frustration has a way of showing, huh." Chewed on the inside of her lip when she made a third trip down his belly, then he recognized the shift of her face from contemplation to pensive. All last chance exits were fading from view when John slid his hand between her thighs and let his fingers slip between her damp folds. Pensive flew from her face and her eyes shut in anticipation of next, next, next.

John gently stroked her while taking in the view of soft curves, hitching breaths and clenching hands. Finally she let go of the sheets and gripped his arms. "John," came the desperate whisper. Settling himself atop her, he moved his hand just enough to slide his erection against her, eliciting a whimper. John slid home with such ease, he had to stop just to get control of himself. It had been so long since he'd been inside a woman. After a few halted strokes, John found a rhythm that made Liz buck against him. John stretched his body to cover hers, to cage her in below him, to make her his. Then she bucked against him again. "No, no, John. On your back, soldier. I'm not falling for this one again."

Confused, John did as ordered, moving out and away from her to make himself comfortable on the bed. She straddled his lap, guiding him back into her body with a sigh. She reached forward and yanked the pillows from underneath his head. She rocked slightly but watched him carefully. "What?"

"You know what. If I let you come on top of me, I'm stuck 'til morning." She sat up and rose up on her knees before sinking back down, ceasing all conversation. His hands stroked her thighs, eyes on her heaving breasts and her head when it tipped back. Met her crashing hips with his and watched the sweat form on her skin, let her hands scramble for purchase when she needed more, harder. When she came, it was gorgeous. He didn't have time to relish it before his own orgasm ripped through him. When he was able to think again, she was pulling the pillows from the floor and shoving them back into place. Resting by his side, she took his mouth for a long, languorous kiss. "Welcome home, John."

--

Waking alone, John took care of the three S's and went about examining the apartment in detail. The photos were more or less the same. There was one more picture than before. Dean welcoming Jack into his arms inside a frame that boasted Baby's First Steps. It was tough to gauge by the baby pictures but John would say he had given Dean a few more months. John had no clue how long he stood staring at the shelf with all its pictures but it was long enough for the school bus to drive by.

"Papa!" Jack ran into the room and John scooped him into his arms. He was getting big but John relished the fact that Jack was not yet old enough to hate hugs. He couldn't remember the last time he'd hugged one of his sons without it being to celebrate an escape from death.

As the memories formed, John realized that he'd stopped hugging Sam at a much younger age than he'd stopped hugging Dean. Dean, who had been his greatest ally against the dark before he'd fully understood what it was his daddy did at night. Sammy, who he had protected from the truth for as long as he was able. Here was little Jack who knew next to nothing about what danger lay in the dark. Almost normal.

John listened as the boy regaled him with tales of the day. Started dinner when it looked as though Liz had gotten hung up at work. John spent a sober evening of homework and baths and story time for the first time in 25 years. He had just shut the door on a sleeping Jack when the door opened and Liz stumbled in with bags of takeout. "John?"

"Just put Jack to bed." He whispered.

"Already?" Liz bent backward to get a look at the clock. "I'm later than I thought."

He flicked his eyes over her form. Not waitressing today. "Motel busy?"

"I was downstairs building first aid kits all evening." She sighed with a shake of her head. "Grant and Davis ran out and they ruined a whole set I'd built last winter. I'm gonna start charging them for the refills."

"I'd lock up the kits. Make 'em pay full price." John shrugged.

"You always say that and I always remind you that Grant and Davis live off the land and they don't have money to refill their kits." She waved a finger at him to cut off the words that were about to tumble out of his mouth. "Two kits every other year, John. That's it. I can afford it." She unloaded her bags. "I guess this is all leftovers for tomorrow, then?"

"I think so." He smirked down at the already cold burgers and fries. "Healthy."

"Shut up. I couldn't get Joe to steam any vegetables this late."

"Steamed vegetables? You've got a growing boy and you're going to shove steamed vegetables down his throat?" He could barely contain his smile when she turned to glare at him and yank the boxes out of his hands to shove into the refrigerator. "Don't worry. I stuffed him full of broccoli."

"Drowned in Cheeze Whiz?"

"Maybe. Roughage needed a little coating of something good to make it go down."

"You spoil him." She poured herself a drink, staring at him where he leaned against the sink.

"Kind of my job."

She frowned into her glass before she took a long swallow of bittersweet rum and coke. "He told his teacher that you were his father, today."

John tilted his head at her.

"That's why I ran off so early this morning. I had a conference with his teacher." She slid up onto the counter and took another long swallow. "She asked the class to draw a family portrait. You know Inga, right? Right. So, Inga is looking at the picture and asking him questions about it and he points to the large bearded dude and says 'And that's my dad.' She attempted to correct him and he refused to listen to her. He kept insisting that you were not his grandfather but in fact his father." She polished off the glass. "I wondered if what we were doing confused him at all and I guess I have my answer."

"He knows better, Liz. He does." John shook his head. "He thinks it will make him less of a freak if…"

"But if he knows better, as you claim…"

"He's a little boy and he's growing up faster than he should and he's trying to slow himself down."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Which boy are you comparing him to, tonight? Your knight and shining Dean or your nerdy and obtuse Sam?" She reached out a leg to hook his arm. "Why do you do that? I hope you didn't do it to your boys to their faces."

"Do what?"

"You never praised Dean cause he did everything you wanted him to do. You always criticized Sam because he didn't. The boys couldn't have taken well to that."

"You telling me my business?"

"It's our business." She pointed out as she attempted to pour herself another drink. "We're a family, John."

"I think I know that."

"Do you?" John leaned over her to finish the pour and to hand her the glass. She stared at him. "You act like it's two separate things. Your boys are your family. Jack and I are your family. We are all your family. It's not separate." She took another drink. "I need to know that you're in this. Because Jack wants to pretend you're his father. Because I need you here with me. Because if you died hunting, it would kill us both and we don't know how to get in contact with Sam. Sam, who you've never called. Sam, who I'm sure doesn't know we exist."

"Sam made his bed years ago."

"So, he never tried. You never tried. Dean never tried."

"Dean tried." John snapped his head up, his eyes meeting hers. "Dean tried. He held his hand out to Sam time and again and got it slapped back."

"Sounds familiar."

"What are you saying?"

"It's what you did to Dean. How could you not see it?"

"See what?"

"See how much he loved you." She gripped his shirt. "Dean's love was such a gift. I feel blessed to have even a fraction of it. That's all I had. A fraction because he gave everything else to Jack and to Sam and to you."

"You're soused."

"Maybe."

"Liz…"

"I don't want you to treat him the way you treated your boys."

"Do I?"

"You might."

"You're afraid of what I might do." John stared at her.

"You're hardly here anymore, John. I don't know what's gotten into you." She growled into her glass. "You're so absentminded. You ask questions about things you've known for years and you're always staring at those pictures of Dean." Her eyes lifted to his after a moment. "Is it… Alzheimer's, John?"

"What? No." John shook her off and vainly tried to remember if it did run in his family. He turned away. "Fuck you for suggesting it."

"You're the right age, John and your behavior isn't just erratic, it's familiar." She dragged him over to her. She framed his face with her hands. "I don't want to lose you. You've walked this edge before, John, and it nearly killed both me and Dean. I don't want to go through that again… especially not with the way things are between us now."

"What happened today?" John didn't make any moves to comfort her. He didn't know what he was supposed to do with her drunken confessions.

"I'm scared. I don't know what I'm doing anymore." She leaned into him, burying her face in his neck. "I love you and I know that I'm not supposed to. I love my son but I don't know how to talk to him anymore. I… I miss my family. My friends… It's never safe. Not for anyone for any reason."

"I think that was established a long time ago, Liz."

"I know that. Just don't leave me."

"Come on. Bed time." Pulling her into his arms, he maneuvered his way down the hall to get her to bed. "Lightweight."

"Shut up."

John set her down then took her shoes off for her. "Just go to bed."

"John," she pleaded. "Please… be here when I wake up."

"Yeah."

"Say it."

"I'll be here when you wake up."

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

Part 14

John spent two weeks trying to be his future self at night and researching Dean's death during the day. He'd missed a mauling the first time. He'd get the son of a bitch for sure. Spent his nights learning everything about Liz that she would reveal. Listened to her stories of a normal childhood, to her troubled teenaged years and her ill-fated marriage. John shared a few stories that he knew he hadn't told her and seemed like he'd never told her in the years between his experience with her and this strange future. He knew he'd learned more about her than she'd ever told Dean.

He was certain about this because Liz had told him about Max. Everything about Max. If he failed again to save Dean… there was only one thing that he could do.

--

John climbed out of the woods and shook the leaves from his hair. He limped up the last few yards to the motel entrance. His leg throbbed. Pins. Damn pins. The bored girl took a breath and mumbled something about finishing her classes to get another damned job. John ran that through his head a moment. She handed him a familiar key. "Thanks, Inga."

"No problem." She looked slightly less tired than a moment before but only slightly.

Took the key and his bag and barely made it up the stairs before his leg really started screaming. Found his bottle and chugged. He managed to sleep for a bit but woke when the door opened. "Dad? You okay?"

"Just sleeping it off." He managed, then fell asleep knowing his boy was right there.

--

Waking to their voices should have been comforting. Dean only had a year to live… and John was the only one who knew it.

"He's exhausted, obviously."

"And he's going to wake up and want to go on another hunt. He's killing himself, Dean."

"No, this is just what he does. It's what he's always done. He gets upset, then he hunts until he crashes, then he drinks himself to sleep. He rests. Then he starts over."

"You skipped a step."

"Yeah?"

"He starts over… does that mean as soon as he's rested he gets upset again? Or does he just find something else to hunt?"

"Don't put words in my mouth."

"Okay, why does he keep coming to the motel? It's a whole ten yards to the store. It's just as easy to come knock on my door as it is to get this same dirty room all the time."

"Been coming here so long, it's almost like home." Dean cracked lamely.

"Would you both shut up? I rent the room so I don't have to hear you two fucking in the shower or yapping all night long about who loves who more." John rolled over and shoved a pillow over his head. "I don't hear anybody leaving."

"Yeah, okay, Dad. Come up for dinner when you're done sleeping." Dean laughed and opened the door. A moment later, they were on the other side of a closed door and John had to make himself not lift his shirt to smell her on it before shoving himself to his feet to get in the shower.

--

Dinner was an interesting affair of green salad something or other, BBQ chicken (the likes of which can mostly be found in the southwest region of the country), corn from a can and some kind of pie for dessert that had mostly ended up in Dean's stomach. John had spent the meal trying to make sure he didn't give anything away.

"Jefferson says he's got a box of empty blacks for us."

"What's that?"

"Just to try out the salt thing. He wants a… control group, he says. Wants to meet us at Bobby's to get the alchemy done or something."

"Jefferson's a jackass." John took a toothpick when Liz offered them. "We'll head to Bobby's in a week or so. Then I got us a hunt lined up. Another werewolf."

"Full moon's in a week." Dean glanced at the calendar on the wall. "You wanna cut it that close?"

"Done my homework, son. We got time."

"Two werewolves in a year. Weird."

"I know it, dude." John nodded and pushed his half-eaten pie away. Dean picked up his fork and finished his father's pie. "You eatin' for two?"

"He's got a black hole in his stomach." Liz rolled her eyes and cleared the rest of the plates away. She poured John another cup of coffee without asking. He nodded his appreciation but didn't quite meet her eyes, the same way he'd done all night. He flicked his eyes up to watch her perch on Dean's leg while Dean worked diligently to eat the last of the pie. Dean shoved a forkful of pie into his mouth, then tipped his chin at Liz, flicking his eyebrows up and down. She stared at him dumbly for a second then rolled her eyes. "Grow up." Her eyes darted across the table. "And shame on you for doing that in front of your dad."

"Darlin'… I'm pretty sure there's very little that I don't know about the two of you." John sipped his coffee, slowly. "We cohabitated for a good long while."

"And he did walk in on you riding me like—oof!" Dean rubbed his chest where Liz elbowed him.

"That's what you get for being crude." John tipped his cup at them. "I did warn you about that."

"When?" Dean kept rubbing his sore sternum.

"The day we met her."

Liz bit her lip then crossed the table to kiss John's forehead. "You're such a good father." She smacked Dean's head before taking his plate to rinse in the sink. "I mean, who else would put up with all his eccentricities."

"Hey! You're not fooling me with your SAT words." Dean winked at her.

She shook her head at him. "Dean… never mind."

"What?" He frowned suddenly.

"He got a 1450 on his SATs." John blurted out.

"You suck!" Liz threw a towel at him.

"Why? What did you get?" He asked from under the towel.

"1430." She whipped the towel off his head and hit him again with it. "You're a big fraud. You have that act down."

"What act?"

"This act where you pretend to be stupid and unlearned."

"Alright, kids. I'm going to bed." John tapped the table and rose to pick up his jacket. "Dean, we'll leave tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? I thought you said a week?" Dean shut his mouth the second he had blurted the question out. "Tomorrow, then. Yessir."

John wasn't fast enough out the door to miss the sour look on Liz's face. Raised voices hit his ears before he'd hit the ground. No more wasting time. John would kill every werewolf breathing to protect his boy. John had just finished counting out the silver when Dean stumbled into the room and collapsed on the second bed. Not a word was spoken but twenty minutes later, the boy was snoring.

--

Dean crept over the log and kept low to the brush. Gun in hand, he followed the signs. If it left the valley, they were screwed. John had the rifle for a long shot but if the werewolf left the valley, Dean was on his own. If his leg weren't kicking up such a fuss, John could be down in the valley with his boy.

The phone vibrated in his pocket but John ignored it because the hairy beast was coming out to hunt. Tracking her movement through the scope on his rifle, John shifted for a better shot. The crack of a gun startled him but the werewolf roared and reared. He didn't think. He pulled the trigger, catching it in the neck. The gun cracked again, bright sparks in the darkness. He watched the werewolf twist and fall in the eye of his scope. Then he saw Dean leap into the scope with a silver machete. Watched Dean do so much more than kill the beast. By the time John reached him, Dean was already tossing a match onto the mess he'd made, which no longer looked like a werewolf but a girl.

"Dean? You okay?"

"I'm good." Dean nodded and wiped blood off his face. "She didn't even scratch me."

"I didn't ask if you were hurt. I asked if you were okay? What in the hell was that?" John stared down at the burning mess. "You know her or something?"

"No…" Dean blinked at his father then looked down at the mess he'd made. Then he turned and vomited into a shrub. "Christ…"

"What?"

"Nothing." Dean shook his head and pulled out a flask to get rid of the taste in his mouth. "Let's get going. Jefferson's not going to stick around."

"Let's take it easy. Leg's putting up a fight, tonight."

They made the climb back in silence, Dean lending his shoulder as a crutch for his father. John dropped into the passenger seat, Dean dutifully climbed behind the wheel. "We'll just swing back and pick up our shit and get going."

"You okay to drive right now?"

"I'm good. We going straight to Bobby's?"

"Jefferson's is closer."

"He's at Bobby's."

"So what?"

"So, we're going to Bobby's right?" Dean looked to his father and didn't say another word. He didn't have to. That look said everything that Dean needed it to. It said 'I trust Bobby.' It said 'I want to go to Bobby's.' It said 'I want to take her to meet Bobby.'

"Dean, do whatever, just as long as I get something to kill the pain."

--

Whatever turned out to be a fast drive to New York and into the mountains and then a very quick argument, concession and rapid packing of clothes. That's how John ended up in the backseat with his bottle of whiskey. It was a goodly pace to Bobby's. John didn't talk much but they didn't notice. Liz asked questions and given what all Dean had already told her, there was an infinite amount that she didn't know yet. Dean was playing a game of half-truths with her before and now it was all coming out.

It took two days to meet up with Bobby in South Dakota. John was never more happy to see his old friend.

"I see you got the okay to walk." Bobby called out. "Shame, bet it kept you out of trouble."

"Be good as new soon enough." John nodded as he pulled the bags from the trunk. "Anyway. Trouble finds me as often as not."

"This is the girl, huh." Bobby glanced at Liz. "She's gotta be crazier than both of you put together."

"I have my doubts about her sanity." John admitted as she walked past. She tilted her head at him. "She keeps sleeping with him and nobody has ever been sure where he's been."

"Listen up, Papa." Liz poked a finger into his chest. "It's none of your business what we're doing… we don't ask you where you disappear to for weeks on end."

"Got me."

"She's smart." Bobby tipped his hat to Dean. "I like her already… which is more than I can say for the two of you idjits."

"You love us, Bobby, you know you do. You miss us when we're not around." Dean slung an arm over Liz's shoulders.

"I don't know nothing about that. But you keep bringing that pretty little thing with you, I'll be a little more welcoming. She seems like a nice girl… No clue what she sees in you, Dean."

"Oh, he's got good qualities." Liz leaned into him. "Can always make me smile… and sometimes it's a tough job."

"Is that what it was? My witty humor?"

"Don't push it."

--

Bobby passed John a fresh beer. "Jefferson's holed up with a woman in town. Don't expect to see him for another day or so."

"Of course."

"Dean sure looks happy."

"Of course he does. He's got his girl glued to his side."

"She know what we do?"

"She does now. He told her all of it on the way over. She took it well."

"How about that? Brave one."

"She's got secrets she hasn't told him yet."

"She told you?"

"No but I know what she knows." John took a long pull on his beer. "She's harmless as far as I can tell."

"Surprised you let him get this attached."

"Nothing I could do about it."

"Did you try?"

"Talk to Caleb."

"And what's Caleb gonna tell me, John?"

"I don't like the way you're asking that question."

"What's Caleb gonna tell me about Dean, John?" Bobby could have bit his tongue to have kept from blurting out that question right as Dean was loping up the porch.

"What's Caleb got to do with me?" Dean asked, offhand, not even thinking. Liz nearly crashed into his back when he stopped. Dean's eyes flicked from man to man; defensiveness settling in when neither one met his gaze. "Caleb better not be talking shit about me."

"He hasn't said a word to anyone." John shook his head. "No one's even talking about it."

"Talking about what?" Liz asked softly.

"Nothing." Dean bit out and yanked open the back door.

Bobby finished his beer before speaking, not even bothering to look at his friend. "What in the hell are you doing to that boy, John?"

--

John pretended to read a book in Bobby's living room. He was listening to the voices that came down the vent. Dean explaining some things. Liz soothing and smoothing things over. Then he had to take his book outside. He sat out there with the book when Jefferson rolled up. Sat there through the design process with Dean in the living room. Sat there all night until Liz eventually joined him with beer in hand.

"Real page turner, huh. You've been reading that same page all day." Liz commented.

"I'm not big on German."

"oh."

John pulled long on the bottle. "You know… we've known you for a while now. I think we've come to know each other pretty well."

"Well, I would hope so."

"As of today, you know just about everything there is to know about Dean… don't you think turnabout is fair?"

"What?" her voice was small and shaky.

"I mean… he tells you that his mother was killed by a demon but you can't tell him about your little extraterrestrial experience?"

"You checked up on me?" Her tone changed swiftly.

"I'm not going to tell him but you should. Anyway, he has a thing for the green women from Star Trek."

"Dean hits on everything with tits."

"Well, that is true."

"How did you find out about me, John?" She stood to face him. "There aren't many who know about me and none of them talk to strangers." She shrugged and looked away. "It's not like he doesn't know something."

"Really."

"Yes, really, John. You almost died on us, last year. Me and my secret are the only reason why you're sitting here right now, being an asshole."

John stared at her. "What are you talking about?"

"You, the booze and the pills, John." She reminded him. "You need help in more ways than one… and I wouldn't have bothered, maybe, if it hadn't been for Dean." She met his eyes. "Dean took it in stride but Dean doesn't like to question things that keep his family together. He let me slide by with it because you woke up the next morning."

"What did you do to me?"

"I removed the toxins from your blood stream so that you could start healing yourself. It's a process on the molecular level. Side effect was that you pissed yourself but you were already in the shower so it didn't matter." Her brown eyes flashed something that John had never seen in her before. "Dean loves you. I love Dean. Don't ever threaten me with him again, John. There are sides of me that I don't like but I will show them to you if you cross me."

"Are you threatening me?"

"I'm just stating facts. I'm not going to hurt him. I would never do that… will you promise me the same thing?"

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

Part 15

Parts of the Impala lay on a cloth on the table. John had already drunk himself stupid to kill the pain in his leg. Dean tinkered with something in the next room. Liz and Bobby were discussing some sort of recipe but John couldn't tell if it was for a spell or if it was for dinner. Dean walked in, screwdriver in hand, and eyeing some piece of the puzzle from the table. "Did you hear Jefferson trying to overdesign my idea?"

"Yeah." John nodded as he poured himself another glass.

"It's simple and it works. There's nothing to it and he just doesn't listen."

"He's worried about jamming." John rolled his eyes. Jefferson was the go-to guy on munitions but he was sad sack with a gun.

"But if he'd keep his guns up, there wouldn't be any jamming."

"You're right."

"But you agree with him? That it needs more?"

John looked up at the question. Dean had a strange expression on his face. "What's that?"

"Are you agreeing with him?"

"Dean… the shells work. You came up with it. It's more than Jefferson ever came up with and he's been alive and hunting longer than either of us. He's jealous. Did you tell him about the shelf you made?"

"No…"

"Go gloat on him some more. Put him in his place. Jefferson thinks his shit don't stink just cause his Daddy was something of a somebody." John snorted and had to avert his eyes when Liz wandered in to sit on Dean's lap. Her shirt gaped at the wrong angle giving John a view of the younger version of what he'd had pressed against him for weeks on end the last time he'd spent time through the woods.

"It's a beautiful shelf." Liz murmured into Dean's ear.

A phantom tremor tickled John's ear. He stood abruptly and found himself walking the property to blink away the images burned on the inside of his eyelids. It should have never happened. He should have found another way to exist and get his answers in that other life because now it was all he could think about. Getting back to Liz… the future Liz. This time… Dean should be alive and Liz shouldn't welcome him with fellatio. Turning, he could see them through the window. Rubbing at his lips, he could swear that he could taste her. Her lips, her breasts, her thighs… and everything in between.

Bobby stepped out of a shadow. "They're kind of sickening. Think we were ever like that with our women?"

"I know I was." John ran a hand over his face. "At least you get to kick them out of your house. They come tagging along after me."

"What kind of dirt do you have on her, John?"

"Maybe enough to see her gone for good."

"You gonna keep your mouth shut?"

John heard the warning in his friend's voice and didn't know what he was really going to do. He shrugged. "She doesn't know what I know. She's not hurting anyone. It would put Dean in a tailspin for sure."

"John, no disrespect meant to you… but I have never seen Dean this happy. Never. I always thought he was too fucked in the head to know this kind of happy if it took his pecker off."

"You talked to Caleb?"

"I did… which only confirms what I always thought. Dean is fucked in the head."

"You think?" John hadn't been so out of touch with reality that he didn't know but he would never be ready to admit it. His boy had been damaged and he'd never been sure of what exactly Dean had seen that night but it had stilled his tongue for months. All of the things about Dean which made John proud, also made him cringe. His ability to emerge unscathed from the most dangerous hunts. His eagerness to rush into the fray. Then he thought of that poor girl. She had been a monster but the way Dean had dispatched her… so coldly and yet so… artistically.

"We'd both be fooling ourselves if we didn't admit that the boy is screwed together wrong and so is she if she's willing to love him the way he is."

"She's equally fucked in the head, Bobby." John stared into the night and thought about the nights where she would do things to him that would have made June Weathers blush. "The things she's seen… would change your world."

"You can't be serious."

"I am dead serious."

"May I ask how you came across this knowledge?"

"No." John shook his head but his eyes landed on Liz again. Watched her attempt to help Dean put the engine back together. He cleared his throat. "Promised her that I'd leave it alone."

"She put a spell on you?"

"Maybe." John shrugged and started back for the house.

--

Jefferson frowned at the trunk full of Dean's inventions. "Well, I guess this stuff works on the fly but for prolonged use, it just makes sense to get a design going to maintain consistent aiming."

"Shut your fucking mouth." John muttered from the porch where he'd been watching with his bottle. No one heard him.

"If your aim is dead on, it doesn't matter if the bolts are aerodynamic or not." Dean picked up his makeshift cross bow. "And I never miss a bull's-eye."

"Whatever, kid."

"Jefferson," John cleared his throat from the porch, sitting up sloppily. "My boy was a better shot than you when he was six and time has only improved his game, which is more than I can say for yours."

"No one's a bulls-eye shot at six." Jefferson rolled his eyes.

"My boy was. Lined 'em up and he shot down every one. Barely even flinched at the recoil."

"Bullshit." The man spat on the ground.

"If John says it happened that way, then it did. He doesn't blow smoke up anyone's ass." Liz interrupted from where she leaned in the doorway with a bottle of beer in hand. "Not even his boys'." She plopped down on a stair below John's. "Besides, it doesn't really surprise me. Dean has always been able to figure things out just by studying them."

Dean's face was bright red but he didn't acknowledge any of the praise. "Anyway, this is what works in a pinch. I don't have time for smelting on the fly."

"How did you come up with the rock salt in the shells thing, anyway?" Jefferson fiddled with a clear shell, mentally calculating the layers inside it. Measuring salt and wadding.

"Screwing around between hunts." Dean shrugged. "Always bugged me that iron rounds cost so much when salt can do the same thing. Don't even need to get that close to send 'em on their way long enough to get a grave dug and a body burned."

"Mass grave of a massacre. No time to do anything else but toss salt at the spooks." John piped up.

"Mass graves… what a couple of idiots. No wonder Sam took off." Jefferson swore under his breath.

Liz watched the way John lifted his gaze to the younger man. Watched the steel in Dean's spine. She rose and polished off her bottle. "Jefferson, I don't know you but if I were you, I'd change the subject, fast." She grabbed John's bottle and pulled his knife out of his back pocket without asking. "Play nice."

When she had gone in the house, John opened his mouth to lay into Jefferson but Dean beat him to it. "You don't talk about my brother. Ever. You don't know him. I asked you about design advice, not family advice, which you shouldn't be giving out anyway the way your family turned out."

Liz returned with four more bottles and took a seat after she'd passed them out. John flinched a bit when the seat she'd chosen was the one directly behind his. Heard her take a drink from her bottle before her cool hands landed on his back. He chose to ignore it in favor of continuing to glare at Jefferson for daring to speak about Sam. He flicked his wrist to snap the cap off the bottle, tipped it back into his mouth.

Watched Dean breeze past the anger and continue to argue with Jefferson over mechanics. Simmered in his own regret and self-loathing while Liz rubbed the tense muscles in his back. Tipped the bottle back into his mouth. Didn't have the sting of whiskey but he was too drunk to get up and find out where Liz stashed his bottle. When Jefferson shot his mouth off again, Liz practically climbed on top of John to keep him from beating the ever-lovin' shit out of the man. Liz wrapped her arms around his shoulders, one foot pinned on his bad leg. "Let it go, John. He's not worth it."

John never lost eye contact with Jefferson, the man left scared. Dean shared a look with Bobby before peeling Liz off his father and pulling John to his feet once more. Bobby picked up the empty beer bottles while John weaved his way into the house. Once he'd made it through the door, Liz took one shoulder and Dean took the other. They guided him through the house to the room where he'd been crashing all week. Dean felt for a pulse. "Dean?"

"Sh. John, just be still." Liz whispered from where she was huddled by his side. "Be still."

"Fast… strong, though." Dean motioned for Liz not to move.

"What's going on?" Bobby's voice boomed into the room.

John tried to speak but his tongue was too heavy. That's when he realized that something was really wrong. Liz stroked his face with her hand. "John, calm down. We're taking care of you. Relax."

Dean returned with a glass of water and a wet rag. Liz focused on cooling John's face and Dean tipped a little bit of water into his father's mouth. "Bobby, got any aspirin?"

"Is he having a heart attack?"

"No, but I think he's getting closer and closer." Dean shook his head.

John's vision swam. His hearing popped and crackled. The only things anchoring him were Liz's hands on his face and shoulder and Dean's grip on his arm. Then it all went black. He floated in the darkness until little things began coming back to him. John found himself remembering and that scared him. It had never happened to him. But he did. He thought about her and he could remember exactly how it had happened.

John had pulled in just as the snow had started to fall. Liz was just unlocking the house after work. They had hugged and held back the tears as they exchanged pleasantries. Liz had put a call in to the babysitter; no answer. Put on some soup and coffee. Then they had noticed the snow was falling harder and faster. Called the babysitter again. An answer at last. Snowed in up the mountain; they were safe but it was going to come down the mountain any second.

John had helped to prepare the apartment. The power cut out leaving them in the dark and getting colder by the minute. All the preparations had them heaping blankets on Liz's bed and had them clinging together for warmth.

John wrapped his arms around Liz and tried not to notice her body against his or how good she smelled. They were alone together for the first time since… ever. No Dean. No baby. Just them and pain and attraction and everything wrong.

It started with him, rubbing her back gently. Liz returned the favor and moved closer. Intentional or not they lay entangled. Her leg over his, her warmth creating a reaction that he couldn't hide. Instead of moving away, she snuggled closer, burying her face in his neck. John was sure that she was going to get upset until her hips tilted and he could feel wet warmth through his pants. Her hands pressed against his lower back. He dared to slide a hand down to her lower back. Fitting together, they rocked slowly. Her breath panted against his neck. Then he gripped her ass and pressed her firmly against his crotch. Her hips bucked against his. Then it was a race to the finish.

When they were a soaking mess below the waist, Liz clung to him harder. Held on tighter and just breathed into a deep sleep.

When John woke up, she was gone. He was alone in the warm cocoon and bad in need of a shower. Sunlight poured through the tops of the windows and the pipes had not frozen over. The heat was back on. Cleaning up, he found Liz sitting in the kitchen with some coffee. She avoided his eyes at first. Then proceeded to pretend like she hadn't humped his leg the night before.

John stared at her. Young mother. His daughter-in-law in a common law way. Still he liked the way her breasts hung, the way her bottom curved, the way she bit her lip when she was nervous. Finally she spoke. "He's still at the sitter's. Can't get him home for about a day. Waiting on the snow plows."

"Oh." John nodded.

"Hungry?"

"Is that a trick question?" John blurted out. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to actually say that."

Her face was flushed as she took a sip of coffee. "It's okay. I… thought… that, too."

There was no need to ask what had happened because they had both initiated moves that had crossed lines. Still there had to be something to say. "I'm 51 years old, Liz."

"I know. I still wanted it."

That stilled his tongue. "I did too but…"

There it was. They had both wanted more. Both had been waiting for the opportunity. When he had moved he didn't know but she was looking up at him and she was waiting. He had done it. He had to either kiss her or take a step back and never return. He couldn't do it because he was weak… and so he caved.

John memorized every moment like a snapshot of flesh and sensation. Somehow they ended up back in bed. Both exhausted and sated and waiting for the other to speak first. Liz was the brave one. "I didn't know you looked at me that way."

"We don't want to talk about that now."

"Okay." She pressed her lips against his neck, then his cheek, holding his face in her hands. "Go back to sleep, John."

--

John woke to bright sunlight, the smell of coffee. His eyes found Liz curled up at the foot of the bed and Dean's head, drooling on his arm on the other side. Inhaling deep, John lifted his hand to lightly rub Dean's head. The young man snapped his head up and managed a half a smile. Dean wiped the drool off his face, then off his father's arm. Those green eyes flicked everywhere but at his father, then he rubbed his hands over his face, leaving them there as he addressed his old man. "You gotta stop doing this to me."

"What happened?"

"You got all riled up at Jefferson. Then you kind of… turned purple for a bit. Liz was afraid that you were having a stroke or a heart attack." Dean wiped his hands over his face one last time. "Why'd you let Jefferson get you so riled up?"

"Why didn't you?" John countered. "I was drunk but he was being an asshole to you and you let him."

"Yeah, I know."

"Dean, school or no school, I'd take one of you over ten of Jefferson, any day. I'm not arrogant enough to think it was all my training that's made you the hunter you've become. All the rest of it comes from you and second-guessing yourself will get you killed."

"I know it."

"Good."

Dean was silent for a good long moment. "When we get back…" He almost called it home. "You need to see a doctor."

John thought about arguing but this was his son. His loyal and obedient and never asked for anything for himself son. "Okay."

"No fighting… I guess that's a good sign."

"Give me a day to rest then tell Bobby we'll get out of his hair."

"Will do." Dean patted his father's arm then moved around the bed to scoop Liz into his arms. John watched them go and tried not to let his dreams invade his waking time.

--

Dean handed the wrench to Bobby. "I don't know what's with him. He's got a real hard on for werewolves these days."

"Well, a man finds his stride with a beast, he likes to go with it."

"I'm the one killing the things though."

"You got a problem killing werewolves?"

"Not really but... why do they have to change back to people. Bobby?"

"Nothing can really hide, Dean. The wolf is just a part of it. It's a person."

"I know but I'd feel better about killing a hairy mother fucker that stops being hairy… it kills me when they turn into little girls when I shoot 'em." Dean grunted as he got to his feet. "I got him to agree to see a doctor."

"You keep working that magic on your old man, Dean. He may just be human after all."

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

Part 16

John scooped his winnings from the table. At least they weren't sore losers. Liz had cheered him on, which had only made the stakes go higher. Young men were always eager to impress a pretty girl watching from the sidelines. The leader shook his head. "Yeah, go buy your daughter a Barbie or something."

"Oh, she's not my daughter." John taunted as he tucked the roll of money into his jacket. He made his escape to the barstool next to Liz, who was still waiting on Dean to return from the bar next door with his winnings. Liz was snickering into her beer bottle. "What's so funny?"

"You didn't see the look on that guy's face when you told him I wasn't your daughter." She cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Good. He was an arrogant prick."

"How much you win?"

"Enough to cover anesthesia."

"Really?"

"For an hour."

"Ah. So… we're gonna hit some more bars tomorrow night?"

"Looks like."

"How's your leg?"

"Stiff."

"Well, this fundraiser should pay for most of the removal procedure. You'll be as good as new in no time." Liz stared to say more but Dean walked through the door, grinning from ear to ear. "Well, I'm assuming you won."

"Of course I did." He stole her beer for a drink, which allowed her to see a lipstick smear on his jaw.

"Dean." John flinched at the way she said the name.

"Yeah?" Dean passed the beer back, then saw the look on her face. "What?" She slid a finger through the smudge and held it up for him to see. Dean's hand shot to his face to wipe off the remainder. "Look, I won. This chick tried to come on to me and I didn't bite. So, she tried harder."

"Uh-huh." Liz tilted her head at him.

"Nothing happened."

"Okay." She turned back to the bar to finish her beer.

"Go wash your face, son." John cleared his throat. Dean cursed under his breath and wandered away. Liz fiddled with a coaster for moment and when John cleared his throat again to speak, she cut him a look that stopped his speech dead in his throat.

"Don't say anything, John. Just don't."

--

John held the baby against his chest. Let him sleep while Dean and Liz were catching up on chores. Smelled clean for the moment; baby powder and shampoo. Baby Jack. No one had argued when Dean had named the boy Jack Winchester. But a few weeks later, the jokes had started. Baby Jack sounded like something someone could order at a drive-thru. Ran his fingers lightly up and down the warm back. Remembered doing the same with both his boys at the same age. When life was safe and uncomplicated and Mary was there to snap pictures and make jokes about her couch potato boys. John laid a secure hand on the baby's back and shut his eyes, just for a minute.

--

John opened his eyes when he felt the fingers around his wrist. "No, he's got a strong heart beat. It's not as fast as it was two days ago."

"He's also awake." John grumbled as he struggled to sit up.

"Sorry, John." Liz winched and brushed his hair out of his face. "You were having a nightmare or something."

"Nightmare?"

"Yeah…" Dean flicked a glance over his shoulder but didn't even ease up on the gas a bit. "No more Stephen King movies at bedtime, kay champ?"

--

John hated hospitals and doctors but the plates in his leg had to go. He listened to Dean and the doctor. He couldn't see them where they were outside the room but he could hear almost everything. Dean was rattling off a list of concerns. Hearing things from someone outside his head, John began to worry about himself. Only he knew what they did not. He had been traveling a great distance to a life that was nothing like the one he had now.

The doctor's comments were optimistic that some of the behavior was mental health and not related to the leg but that some of it could be attributed to the pain and once the plates were out and he was healed, some of it should alleviate the other behavior. Mental Health… that was one way of putting it. John sometimes doubted his 'mental health' and the choices he'd been making in the last couple of years.

Dean ambled in, hands shoved into his jean pockets. "So, they're gonna come prep you. I'm short some cash but I can make up the difference in a couple of nights."

"I thought we were more than short." John scratched at his beard.

"Payment plan. Half now. Quarter in a couple of months. Remainder a couple of months later. It's doable."

"Liz's pacing somewhere?"

Dean smiled to himself. "She's at home. Sleeping. She… kind of hasn't been doing that."

"Did you drug her?"

"Almost had to."

There was a long moment where John could tell Dean was going over something in his head. He was going to do something desperate if John didn't do something. "If I die, you tell Sammy that I'm sorry."

Dean's head snapped up, eyes blazing. "Fuck you."

"I'm serious. I heard everything the doctor said about blood clots and my blood pressure and the risk. So, if I die… you go find him. You tell him that I don't hate him. You tell him that I respect his decision."

"Shut the fuck up, right now. You're not going to die."

"You split the weapons and if you can't use 'em, talk to Bobby."

"God damn it!" Dean gripped his father's shoulders and stopped short of shaking him. "Shut up. Stop it."

"Dean. Just… be prepared for anything."

"Then say that!" Dean whirled away. "Don't go all… maudlin and 'here's my living will' shit."

--

Jello. Sucks. Ass. John shoved the lunch tray away. He was alone for the first time in a week. It was the first time he'd had since leaving Bobby's that he'd had where he could think about what had happened to him in Bobby's spare room. He'd had memories that it wasn't possible to have. Memories of a future he was fighting against. Maybe he didn't have to go back. Maybe he'd done what he was supposed to and it was done. Dean and Liz would settle down and have probably more than just the one kid and it would be the closest thing to normal that Dean would ever have in his life… aside from all the alien stuff that was bound to invade once Liz's secrets came to light.

--

John found himself sitting at the kitchen table, leg propped up on an extra chair. Liz kept checking on him while she cooked. "Dean said that he'd be back soon. Just running out to get a jump start on those hospital bills."

"I know." John nodded to himself.

"John… about what I said back at your friend's house." She turned slightly, bracing herself on the counter. "I didn't mean to threaten you like that. I'm not a violent person. I'm… I've always been very protective of people I love. It's very hard for me to say that I love Dean but I do… I've told Dean enough that he's not curious and I don't want to tell him more because he will become curious and that's not safe for a man like him."

"Oh yeah?"

"Dean solves his problems by killing things. There's nothing he can kill for me." She looked up at last. "I don't like asking him to choose. I won't ask him to. I will take what I can get from him. I know that I can't make him stay with me. I don't ask him to stay with me. I think it makes it easier for him to stay when I don't ask him to…"

"What's your point? You're meandering all over the place there, darlin'."

"I need him. I like to think he needs me. You're gonna be in my life as long as he is. I don't want to say that I tolerate you or I put up with you because that sounds harsh. I honestly do enjoy our conversations when you don't treat me like a threat to your family." Liz crossed her arms and cast her gaze down to her bare feet. "My point is that I'm not going to make it difficult for us to get along. If it's hard, it's your doing. I don't think that you try to make anything work for longer than is necessary. I think you are run by necessity and nothing more."

"Think what you want." John tapped the table. "Ask Dean. I don't let anyone talk to me this way. You think I'm not trying. I am. This is me trying. Maybe it's not enough for you. It's enough for Dean. He's the only one that I owe anything to."

"So, we're in agreement. For Dean."

"For Dean."

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

Part 17

Doubled over, heart racing, John waited for the memories to come. He knew they were coming now. He was ready. Ready being a relative term.

A birthday cake. 3 candles on it. Dean slyly helping to blow them out with little Jack. Liz hugging John and giggling into his side, disrupting John's aim with the camera. Liz hopped up to kiss his cheek before rushing over to help Dean cut the cake and plaster her men with kisses. John grinned and snapped off pictures before Jack's fist smashed into the cake. "Hey buddy, save some of that cake for Papa." Dean pulled the little hand out, wiping it clean before kissing Liz, who had waited patiently. John tilted his head at those two and set the camera down. Liz quickly cut the cake, avoiding his eyes. Dean cleared his throat and got the boy settled once more. "Hey, Dad?"

"What's going on, son?" John took his piece of cake but watched the two lovebirds.

"Ready to expand your family?" Dean's grin was broad and genuine as he tugged Liz into his side. No nervousness this time. Not like the last time when Dean was certain that a pronouncement like this was the end of the world.

"Daddy!" Jack squealed as his piece of cake smashed between his fingers.

Pain bursting in John's skull, he stumbled and gripped the kitchen table. Struggled to stay on his feet as more memories surfaced.

Liz clinging to him beside a pyre. Jack sleeping in the car a few yards away. "What am I going to do, John?"

"You'll keep going."

"And in five months?" She turned her face up to him. "I had him to help me the last time. How am I supposed to do this alone, now?"

"You can do this." John stroked her hair down and out of her face. "I'm leaving. I'm gonna kill the monster that did this to Dean… and then I'll be back."

"John, no." She shoved him away. "Look!" She pointed to the burning pyre. "Dean is dead. Jack is three years old. I'm going to give birth to another one of your grandchildren in five months. If you're dead when that happens… What am I supposed to do if you die too?"

John gasped for breath as he let Liz guide him back to bed. She whispered meaningless reassurances to him until he was staring at the ceiling once more. Taking a deep breath, he cast a glance at her. 22 years old and scared shitless. "Liz?"

"Yeah, John?"

"I'm sorry. I don't know what's happening."

"Okay."

--

Dean wiped sweat from his father's forehead. He glanced back at Liz. "He's been babbling nonsense all week?"

"At first, it was just… you know… like he was talking to himself. Remembering something or trying not to remember something. Just… you know… what people do sometimes. Then he started getting headaches and he'd start babbling and it would last a long time and then he started getting weak. So, I took him off the pain pills but he hasn't tried to drink anything alcoholic. Then yesterday, it was really bad. He started talking like…"

"Like what?"

"Like you were gone." Liz wrapped her arms around herself. "You should have seen his face. He said that a monster had gotten you and that he was going to kill it and he wasn't going to stop until it was dead. When he said it, I almost believed it. That's when I called you. He was stumbling all over the place and then he'd stand up straight and look me in the eyes and tell me that he was going to kill it and then…"

Dean looked back at her. "What?"

"When I got him settled in here… he apologized for his behavior. He knows… that he's coming in and out of whatever it is. He's fighting it and I don't think he's winning."

--

John found his way. He didn't know how. Maybe sense memory. He stumbled into the apartment and fell face first into the bed he usually shared with Liz. Then he slept. When he woke, Liz sat on the edge of the bed with two frightened children. Jack, seemed even taller than the last time John was there but he was a growing boy. Then… the other child. A girl. Her name was Deanna. Eight years old and the picture of her mother with startling green eyes staring out of her round face.

"Papa?" Deanna cried and fell onto the bed, scrambling her way up to hug him, all knees and elbows. That's when John noticed that he'd been changed, cleaned and his leg was bound with fresh dressings.

"Hey, Papa." Jack wrapped his hand around John's ankle. "You get nailed by a werewolf?"

"Nothing could keep me away. Not even a werewolf." John rasped out around his granddaughter's cloud of chocolate hair. Liz moved more slowly around the bed, sitting closer so that she could see his face. "Got something to say to me?"

"You gotta stop, John." She wrapped both her hands around his and kissed his palm. "I can't take much more of this." She tucked his hand into the crook of her neck and stared at him. "I can't keep coming home to find you bleeding out in our bed. Scaring the crap out of the kids."

"Com'ere, Jack." John jerked his head to the side. Jack ambled over to hug his papa around his little sister. John pulled Liz down to hug her. "I'm trying, Liz. I am. I'm trying to get it together."

--

John propped his leg up on the couch and then balanced Deanna on the good leg. Green eyes. "You look like your grandma and your mama, all at the same time."

"Papa." She blushed and launched herself into his arms.

"What? You're my pretty little girl, aren't you." John held her close and let his eyes drift to the shelf, crammed with photos. There it was. The picture that reflected the painful visions that he'd had just before coming through the wood. Liz and her sad eyes, holding this little angel in her arms and no one by her side but Jack. An awkward photo with the four of them, not nearly healed from losing Dean. A photo of Deanna in John's arms and Jack clinging to his leg. Still, a picture of Liz, Dean and little Jack all smeared with frosting from Jack's 3rd Birthday. John had managed to save Dean for another three years.

"De-an-na." Jack sang out. "Mom says to come pick up your toys or you can't have dessert."

"Oh man." Deanna huffed and let her full weight settle against her papa.

"Go on, now. I'll still be here when you're done." John nudged her little ribs.

"Okay." She huffed again, then stomped to her room.

"Watch the attitude, Deanna Winchester." Liz called after her. "I swear I don't know where she gets that from." Her gaze settled on John. "Don't go crying over those pictures again. I've hidden the booze." She tilted her head at him. "When the kids go to bed… I expect to hear about what you were hunting."

John nodded, silently. They got through dinner with the kids yapping about playground drama and Liz's reminders to do chores and brush teeth and do homework. Liz chased them out with kisses when she started clean up. "Jack's nearly as tall as you now."

"I know. He'll pass me by in five years and then I'll have no control over him." She shook her head at herself while she ran hot water over the dishes. "So, how'd you tear your leg open?"

"Um…" John thought about what he could have let get that close because he could only have the plates removed once.

"Tell me you did not go after another Rawhead."

"They like eating kids. I don't like that they do that." John stated simply. It was the honest truth. He hated Rawheads. They were nasty pedophiles of the monster kind. He watched her carefully. He knew the slant of her shoulders and the shake of her head. She'd done the same before, when it was a werewolf who had killed Dean. So, it was Rawhead, this time. Which meant that it was… chance. Random. Just a hunt that should have been a no-brainer.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Liz straddled his good leg. She brushed her lips softly against his. "Think you've killed them all yet?"

"Got a good head start on it." John shrugged.

"Werewolves and Rawheads, beware of John Winchester." She brushed his graying hair out of his face. "The kids get out okay?"

"Yeah. I got there in time."

"Yeah. You did."

"Would I lie?"

"You have before." She sighed. "But… you don't interact this much when you do lie."

--

John stared down at the Rawhead. Dean leaned against the far wall, gasping for breath. John yanked the wires out and began hacking. Together, they dragged the pieces out and lit them on fire. John watched Dean as he reassured the three little girls who had been chained between the water pipes. Triplets, in matching styles but differing colors. Dean rose slowly and somehow managed to carry all three down the street. John followed slowly on his still-healing leg.

John stepped ahead of them and knocked on the door that they had recognized off the police scanner. A harried young man answered the door with a tear-streaked woman behind him. "Can I help you?"

"Name's John. My boy and I heard screaming. Found three little girls. All aged six."

"Oh my God." The woman gasped.

"They're all alive. All more or less unhurt." John turned when Dean made his slow way up the walk with his heavy load.

"Daddy! Mommy!" The girls chorused when they got close enough to leap into one set of arms or the other.

"They were… chained." Dean spoke softly, his face in an expression that John had never seen on his boy before. "I tried to take care of their wrists and their ankles but there will be bruising."

"Oh my God. Oh my God." The wife said over and over, holding one of her daughters, reaching for her husband with her free hand. The other two girls clinging to their father.

"I would take them to the hospital to get checked out. Just in case." John advised. "I didn't see anyone. I'm sorry."

The two men started to back away down the sidewalk when the girls cried out. "Dean! Wait."

Dean turned, halfway down the yard. The girls scrambled down and launched themselves at his knees. Dean knelt and looked each girl in the eye. "It's okay now. You're home with your mom and your dad. You're… safe."

John watched as each girl hugged him and kissed his cheek. As one, the girls turned and ran back to their parents. Their silent and shocked parents. John waited for Dean to catch up, then hooked an arm over his shoulder. Together, they limped back to the car. Packed and ready to go, John climbed behind the wheel and steered them back to New York.

"Hey, Dad?" Dean cleared his throat after an hour on the road. "Think those little girls will ever feel safe again?"

"Maybe. If nothing else happens to them, they may eventually forget."

"I hope so."

--

The kids were asleep when John snuck in. Liz was asleep. He sat and cried his eyes out in frustration. Werewolves and Rawheads and who knew what else and his boy kept dying young. He was buying a year and a month and a week and sometimes maybe days but Dean kept dying and… John would have to raise his boy's children. He didn't know how to stop it. How to keep from feeling like there was some giant hand of fate that dictated Dean should die.

Grabbing his bag, he trudged down to the Impala and climbed inside. He was driving before he knew where he was going. Two days later, he was in Kansas, standing over his wife's grave and a bit startled to find that there was a matching headstone with his son's name on it. He crashed to his knees and brushed his fingers over the date. Dean's headstone. Dead at age 31. He almost expected to see Sam in the line up. Sam. Sammy.

He knew what he had to do. He had to find Sam. Had to find out what was happening. Getting to his feet, he winced at the soreness in his leg but marched ahead. He found a payphone at the edge of town and had to plug nearly two dollars in quarters to get the thing to work. "Operator, I need the phone number for a Sam Winchester in California... Stanford."

--

Two weeks on the road found John in Oregon. The last known whereabouts of Sam Winchester. He had practiced law briefly before falling off the map. Friends had pointed him toward a farm. After the death of his girlfriend, Sam had been a little odd, they said. Then Sam had disappeared one day. He returned to hand in his resignation and then began taking odd jobs that didn't require contracts or set days off. According to Becky Warren of St. Louis, Sam had blurted out in a drunken rant that he loses everyone he loves. John had pressed for more. Becky had stated that after losing his girlfriend, Sam had changed and after losing his brother… she no longer recognized the person that Sam had become. He was always drunk and could be cruel. She was just glad her own brother wasn't around to see Sam the way he was. When she had asked for John's identity one more time, he had hung up on her.

The hike out to the farm was a long one. Sam wasn't there. The owner had pictures. She had a soft spot for the 'old guy'. He'd been hired on when her father had run the place. She didn't have the heart to run him off when the old man had passed. She stared at John. "Why are you looking for Sam?"

"Old friend of the family. I just… found out about his dad and his brother… I just wanted to make sure Sam was alive. He's not married?"

"Sam? No. He… uh… He's a heartbreaker but uh…." She shrugged too casually for someone who sounded like she wasn't too knowledgeable about the ranch hand in question. "He doesn't like to get involved."

"I guess… with the family going the way they all did." John nodded to himself.

"How… did they go?" There, that look in her eyes. "If you don't mind me asking."

"Tragedies. I don't know how… how old John went but um… his mother and brother… horrific… accidents." That killed John, to call them accidents.

"When… did his mother… pass?"

John looked her over. She was the kind of girl that Sam fell for over and over again. 5'10", blond hair, green eyes, active and kind. All through high school, those were the hearts that broke his baby boy's. John almost felt sorry for her. If Sam was as fucked up as Dean was, then it was doomed before it began. "When he was… a baby. House fire. Wiring. Devastated the whole family."

"I'm so sorry."

"I know that Sam had been out of contact with them since… '04 or so… when he went to school. Do you know… how it was that he found out about… what happened?"

"He told me once… a bit… about his brother. He'd been drinking…" She shrugged. "I was just out of high school. I didn't realize at the time that he couldn't hold his liquor and he was just talking. He never said how he died… just that… He loved his brother. Used to idolize him… you know… family stuff. Um… said that the first phone call he'd gotten from his father, the second time he'd spoken to him since going away to college and it was to come meet him because something fatal had happened with his brother. He… dwelled on that… for a long time. I think he still does. His… tolerance is higher now. He… drinks a fair bit and I can't turn him out cause he still works."

"That in '10?"

"Maybe '09." She cleared her throat. "He just… I don't know… Took off about a year and a half ago. He didn't talk for a long time and when he did… he said that… he was the last Winchester alive. I took that to mean his father had passed. I guess he was about 70 or something."

"64." John corrected.

"Oh… I guess I just figured… older. I'm not too good at math. Sam is like… 40."

"37."

"Oh. Like I said. Math."

"Sam said he was the last Winchester?" John led her on, not sure where he was going with it. "The last one, huh."

The girl tilted her head. "Yeah… Does… he have family… somewhere… that he doesn't know of?"

John debated a bit but it would probably be the only way to make sure that Liz and the kids were taken care of if John got himself killed… or did the right thing and never came back through those woods. "He does. I'm… really saddened to find out that he never knew."

"Well, I mean. He only ever talked about his father and brother. Did he have an uncle or an aunt?"

"His brother was married." John led her on a bit more. "Well, kind of married. I mean, they were together a long time. They had a couple of kids together. The kids are Winchester at any rate."

"Kids?" She shook her head as if she didn't understand. "Sam didn't say anything about nieces or nephews."

"I don't think he knows. He's got one of each. Jack and uh… Deanna." John pulled a picture out of his pocket. One he'd chosen for this purpose before he had known what exactly he was going to do. The two kids, horsing around the parking lot, the sign for the store in the background. "Those kids are… Sam and Dean all over again."

She laughed when she saw the picture. Yeah, the kids were that goofy. "Wow, look at those eyes. Their mother's?"

"Dean's, actually. Their mom's got brown eyes and dark hair. Dean… took after his mother. Blond, green eyes."

"What are their names?" She looked up. John could tell she was smitten with Sam and his family.

"John Samuel but he's called Jack… and that's Deanna Leigh."

"They're so big. Dean was his big brother, then?"

"Yeah. Four years older. Jack's 11 and Deanna's 8."

"Sam… just stopped talking to his family? I mean. He clearly thought the world of them and… I… I don't understand this at all." She tried to hand the picture back.

"No, keep it. Give it to him. He needs to know about them." John felt horrible for using the grandkids and this girl that way but… he couldn't stop himself now that he'd started. "John always felt bad about what happened."

"What did happen?"

"I told you that their mom dying just… devastated the family and… the boys were young. They probably would have gotten over it and had normal lives but… ol' John just… about lost it when Mary passed. He drank too much and he became obsessed with the fire that took her. They moved around too much. Boys never had a home to speak of. Dean… was a good boy and he never crossed his father. Sam… well, John and Sam were more alike than either liked to admit. Not to say that Sam wasn't a good boy but he was… more apt to speak up about his feelings than Dean was."

"What's that got to do with what happened?"

"A lot, in fact." John set his jaw for a minute. "John loved his boys. He knew what he was doing wasn't good for them. He just… didn't know how to stop. He would have done anything for those boys and sometimes he did… questionable things to keep them together." She nodded for him to go on. "Sam tried for awhile… after high school. To stick with them but he'd always had his own mind about the way his life should be. He was smart enough to know he'd been cheated out of a home. He was smart enough to know that he was in charge of his own… destiny, for lack of a better word. He applied to Stanford, got in. Got a scholarship and then told his dad that he was leaving. Ol' John got scared. He'd been complacent. He'd had his boys right beside him the whole time. Always knew where they were, knew they were safe…"

She reached out to touch his arm when he trailed off. "You were close with John?"

"You could say that. John and Sam were a lot alike… you back them into a corner and they come out swinging for the jugular… and they always hit, every time." John took a deep breath to calm himself and the emotions that had run high that night. "John tried to scare Sam into staying but he said the wrong thing. Sam picked up his things and walked out the door and he took his father at his word. Granted, John was a man of his word. If he said it, he meant it, even if he knew he couldn't deliver, he'd try his damnedest to live up to it." He sniffed. "He told that boy that if he left, he wasn't welcome back. He just never thought that Sam would leave or that he would believe him that he couldn't come home."

"Oh my God. Sam." She breathed, her hand at her throat. "All those years, wasted?"

"Pride. For them both." John took a breath. "I shouldn't be telling you all this. I was just looking to touch base with Sam. It's been a long time. You just pass that on. He knows how to find me."

"Look, Mr. Rockford… I… adore Sam. I wish that he could have been here to talk to you. I think you would have done him a world of good." She hugged him and walked him to the door. "I'll pass this on. I hope it turns him around. I hate to see him the way he's become."

"I just wish his daddy had done something sooner than calling him when his brother passed."

--

John winced when Liz peeled the bandage from his thigh. It had been a long week. The kids had worn him out. All he wanted was a hot shower and a bed. Listened to her chastisements all the way to the bathroom. He snapped on the water and eyed her through the mirror while he trimmed his beard and waited for the hot water to kick on. "What?"

"You look good, John." She bit her lip as she stepped into the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind her. She watched over his shoulder as he evened out the growth, her hands settling on his belly and between his shoulder blades. He rinsed the blades and set the clippers down. She was pushing his shirt up before he'd begun to turn.

Once they were both beneath the spray, John turned off his brain. Lost himself in lips and arms and legs and cold wall tiles. Tasted each soft gasp, savored each slick slide of skin. Almost enjoyed himself too much. Almost forced a scream out of her knowing the kids were still up. The water was cold when they finally snapped it off. Robes wrapped warmly, they escaped to bid children good night and to lock the bedroom door.

Lights out, Liz slid into bed, hooking a leg over his thigh. Danced her fingers down his belly and back up. "Think you can stay for more than a week this time? You come, you go and the kids are starting to think you're a ghost."

"I try. I can't. I just… can't."

"Okay. I'm not going to pick a fight. I just… want it to be clear that… you're wanted here."

"I just… have things that I need to do."

"Well, you're probably leaving but the gang is coming in this week."

"Thanks for the warning."

"I knew it; you'll be gone in the morning." She snickered.

John ran a hand up and down her back. He missed the small moments of intimacy. The things he couldn't do with anyone where he always ended up. No shared spaces, small touches, or words whispered so softly they weren't even sounds. Fingers hooked into waistlines, skimming necks, hips touching. Breath in neck hollows, arms thrown over chests and waists, legs hooked over and under.

Then, there were the kids. Sticky hands and sloppy kisses and hugs way too tight. The occasional alien art on tables and walls. Snap fights between the kids. Breaking up fights and encouraging the good moments. Long winded stories and breathless I-love-you-Papas. John was determined that no matter what, both those kids would know their father.

--

Dean watched his father watch Sammy. It was pretty hard to miss. Sam was head and shoulders above everyone in his study group. He wanted to walk over and smack the kid upside his head but the way his father was woolgathering… he kept his mouth shut.

John watched his every move. Easy. Graceful. Carefree. Heard Dean's harsh intake of breath when their eyes landed on the blonde at the same time. Tall, blonde, and obviously in love with their Sammy. John remembered what that Becky woman had said… even saw the younger version of Becky sitting in the group. Sam's girlfriend would die right before Sam took up law school. John wished he had asked how the girl died. He would do anything to save Sam the pain of losing love that way.

"Maybe you'll get grandkids out of him, yet." Dean commented at last. "You ready to go?"

"Just a few minutes more." John shook his head. "He look like he's eating?"

"Yeah." Dean chuckled. "That blonde might have something to do with that. He looks a little heavier than he did when he…"

"Yeah, he does. Muscle tone looks good. He's keeping himself up."

"Yeah. I think he is."

"He hasn't called again?"

"No." Dean cleared his throat. John remembered the words tossed around that night but Dean didn't know he knew. "You know Sam. He can take care of himself."

"Yeah. I know."

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

Part 18

Dean's voice carried through the small apartment though it was obvious that he was trying to keep his voice down. "Yeah, yeah, man. We were there… Yeah, man, both of us."

Liz stood still in the hallway, listening, too. John motioned her to sit with him and have a listen. She glanced at him, funny, but sat in the chair next to the door.

"Why do you think we went, Sam?" Dean expelled a harsh breath. "It'd been a while since we heard from you and… Well, believe it or not, we worry about you." A sniff, muffled. "I am glad you called, though… He's asleep, still… Yeah, I know. Late in the day and everything… He's been… Time before last, when we talked, he'd had a spill… No, man. A spill. Literally. He fell down…" Dean snickered at whatever Sam was saying. "No, well. No. He was drinking and he fell down a split landing, busted up his leg… Well, it bothers him, still. Had to put plates in to make sure it healed right and we just got 'em taken out a while ago… We weren't going to but, um, he hasn't been doing too good… No! Just, not good."

John never even realized when Liz had crossed the room to fit into his side. He was used to the older version of her doing that but not really this version. Her face against his shoulder, their ribs touching, her hand on his thigh. Comforting without being intrusive.

"We miss you. I miss you… He does, too… Well, he's not gonna say it outright. Jesus, Sam. You have met your father, right?" Dean laughed. "It's good to talk to you, man… but I still mean what I said before." He cleared his throat. "No, I'm glad you called. I'm happy to talk to you but beyond that… we need more effort before I start filling you in on my day to day… Because… Because, Sam, our family is torn in half… You're not the only one who's busted up about that night. The old man is barely holding it together and I think it is about that night. I think he misses you so much and he feels so much about everything that's happened that he's starting to crack… Well, whatever… I'm the one trying to put him back together… Well, it's only fair… You know what, once it was…. Never mind. No… Forget it… Forget I said a word… Every time we talk, we fight and it's the same shit… Over and over and over… Even Dad changes his tune every now and again, Sammy… Yeah. He's capable of growth. How about that… No, why would I patronize you… Look. I just mean what I said I mean. I'm not playing games with you. I'm not looking to stir shit up. I was just real happy to hear from you… Yeah, well, your fingers are obviously not broken and no cat's got your tongue… If you want… Shut up. I'm not going to pass him the phone just cause I guilted you into talking to him… I'm serious, if you want to talk to Dad, you call his fucking cell phone."

The following silence was deafening. The chair screeched when Dean shoved himself away from the table. His boots fell heavy on the floor but the steps never took him anywhere. John absently stroked Liz's back when he felt the wet warmth on his shoulder. His shoulder was nearly dry when Dean loomed in the doorway. "I need a hunt."

"No." John shook his head. "I'm not taking you out to hunt when you're like this. It always makes you sloppy."

"Then let's take a drive."

"Bobby can always use us." John needed back up with Dean this time. More than Liz could provide.

--

John couldn't tear his eyes away from where she bent over the car to soap it up. From where her shorts rode up along her thighs. From the sheer, wet shirt. Could not look away to save his life. Not with the memory of those solid thighs wrapped around him. Her voice keening through his ears. He knew what it felt like to take her on the trunk. To slide into the backseat with her on top.

Bobby cleared his throat and John stiffened barely. "The kids taking care of that car?"

"Yeah."

"She's a fine girl. She'll treat him right."

"Probably." John cleared his throat and tried to dispel memories of events not yet occurred. "Hell, she's the only one who can get a smile out of him these days."

"Caleb's coming."

"Why?"

"Cause he promised Dean some trinket and he's a man of his word." Bobby shrugged.

John sighed heavily because Bobby had developed that shifty way of staring he usually got when there was a hunt. "Kids! Try to get some of that soap and water on the car!"

Dean's smile was bright. As if he hadn't looked like he was going to kill someone just two days ago. It pained John at how young Dean looked when he smiled that way. Like he was four years old again.

"What crawled up his ass and how did she pull it out without anyone seeing?" Bobby interrupted John's musings.

"Sam." That was all John was going to say on the subject.

"You still ain't talk to that boy? It's been over a year."

"My phone ain't broke. Neither are my fingers." John shrugged. "But neither are his."

"He's young and stupid and he doesn't know what he's throwing away."

"I'm going into town." John announced and shoved himself upright once more, his leg was healing up but he limped at the slightest chill. Dean threatened to spray his father when he passed but Liz tackled him, both landing in the dirt. "You're supposed to be cleaning, not getting dirty."

"Bring back beer-" Dean shouted out before the hose was turned into his face.

--

Dean leaned back and picked up the quarter. With a flick of his hand, the quarter bounced on the table and landed in the shot glass. Pissed, Liz picked up the shot in front of her and tossed it back. John did the same and Liz got one more shot drunker. Liz picked up the quarter and poised on the edge of the chair. She stared at the shot glass and cleared her throat before bouncing the quarter on the table, it hit the edge of the glass and flipped inside.

Both men grinned before taking their shots. Dean spun the shot glass on the table. "It's about time you got one in."

"Shut up and drink cause I'm gonna do it again." Liz flicked the glass over to free the quarter. "When's your friend gonna show up?"

"He'll be here. He kind of runs on his own time table." Dean downed his shot, only his fourth of the night… as opposed to the eight that Liz had already taken.

"Bobby? Are you going to join us?" Liz turned as she missed the shot glass.

"Not tonight." He shook his head and sipped his beer.

"Enough quarters. Liz's liver will explode." John cleared the shot glasses out of the way. He'd only had a handful of shots himself. He dug the cards out of his shirt pocket and began shuffling. "Call the game, Bobby. Hold 'Em or Stud?"

"Stud, of course." Bobby dragged himself to the table.

They drank more and played a few hands for fun. Bobby pulled out the cigars and even taught Liz how to puff on one. She declared it disgusting but puffed right along with the rest of them until Caleb showed up. He slipped something to Dean, who didn't offer any explanation, then joined the game. That's when the wallets and the attitudes came out.

John tossed a chip into the middle of the table, toppling the stack that Liz had placed with her remainders. John had been counting cards and whatever Liz had, couldn't beat Dean's hand. Caleb tossed his cards down. Bobby tossed in his chip then laid out his cards. Two pair. Jacks over fives. John laid down Jacks over fours and cursed to himself. Liz grinned broadly at her Queens over nines. Dean folded his cards down. John frowned at him. Dean blinked at his father. "What?"

"You're folding now."

"Just deal." Dean gathered the cards up and shuffled quickly before handing them over to Caleb for the next hand.

Liz's bank replenished, she got cocky with her next hand. John looked to Dean who folded early, cursing under his breath. John was about to rib him about it but Caleb beat him to it. "You intentionally letting her win? My understanding was that you already got the girl."

"Shut up." Dean bit out and knocked back half his beer before switching to whiskey.

Liz frowned at him and shuffled the cards next. She dealt them out and frowned harder at Dean when he folded again. "Don't let me win. I learned to play with the town sheriff, the mayor and my dad."

Dean just shook his head and knocked back his glass of whiskey. John picked up the cards after Bobby won the hand. He shuffled and counted and dealt and his blood froze when he realized why Dean kept folding. He rounded all the cards up without explaining to anyone. He shuffled too many times to count. Bobby's eyes narrowed. Caleb just shook his head. John dealt and cursed when Dean folded again, tossing back another whiskey. Liz reached across the table, confused. "What's wrong with the hand? It's a good one, right?" She flicked her wrist at John, then at Bobby.

"It's fine." Dean ripped the cards out of her hand and shuffled while standing. He did a few tricks, then dealt out new hands. Everyone silent until Dean tossed his hand down again and left the table.

John stared after him. Caleb cleared his throat. "Aces over Eights. It's… It can be a winning hand but… it's an old superstition. That's called a Dead Man's Hand."

"You hunting something, John?" Bobby asked his friend for probably the tenth time on this trip.

"No. We… just came off a hunt." That's when John realized he'd never looked into Dean's death the last time he'd been through the woods. The blood fell out of his face. He started to go after Dean but Liz beat him to it.

"What were you gonna do when you left here?" Caleb shuffled the cards one more time, dealing to empty seats, then examining the hands. The Dead Man's Hand kept popping up. He looked over the deck and then proceeded to light it on fire with a matchbook from his pocket.

"Going to drop Liz off and then to look for a hunt. I had told Dean we weren't hunting anything until he calmed down."

"What's he riled up about?"

"His brother." Bobby supplied.

"How's that kid doing?"

"He's alive at any rate." John cut them off. "Dean's not usually superstitious."

"John..." Bobby started.

"What'd he tell you, Bobby?"

"Nothing much… Just like he feels that something is gunning for him."

"Did he say what?"

"No but he says there's been more than a few close calls of late." Bobby eyed his friend carefully.

--

Liz read aloud from her book. Some tale of romance and high adventure only vaguely familiar to John and a genuine mystery to Dean. Dean listened intently even as his eyes ran over the road. Dean's arm lay along the seat, his hand wrapped around her ankle where it sat propped on the seat top. John leaned against the door and dozed as he listened as well. John and Liz had the same goal in mind. Make Dean sit still. Make Dean take his mind off his cards.

--

John surfed the net to find Dean's death posted somewhere. He searched the annals. Made phone calls to ferret out the buyer of Dean's headstone and when that was purchased and by what means. His frustration often sent him to bed early in need of release. Liz did her best to tend to him, without asking what he was after, and to intercede with the children. She stopped asking him what he was hunting.

John managed some good moments while he researched. He taught Jack how to change the oil in the Impala. He lowered himself to tea with Deanna and Mrs. Buttercup the bear. He even attended a school play for the first time in 20 years.

That's when it happened. The night of the school play. John had just found the reason Dean had died. Had a clear pattern on the Shtriga that would best his boy. John lifted Deanna up onto his shoulders. She giggled and held on. Jack blushed when Liz fawned over his performance. The quartet marched into the apartment, then Liz disappeared. John got them both tucked into bed. They looked so much younger than his boys had at the same ages.

"Liz?" John called out as he turned the corner and spotted her sitting on the toilet tank holding something in her hand. "Liz?"

Her head snapped up, eyes wide. She wiped the moisture off her face, opened her mouth to speak when the sound of the door creaking open caught John's attention. Whipping his gun out of his jacket, he turned to the kitchen. Liz's hand caught his arm but he kept moving forward. He took a step too far.

He felt rather than heard the click of the gun as it was cocked against his temple. The command was deadly. "Put the gun down and face me you evil son of a bitch."

John put the gun down and felt Liz shrink away down the hall to stay out of sight. He stepped slowly into the living room with his hands out. "Good job."

"Good job?" Sam repeated, his gaze and his aim never wavering. "That's all you've got to say?"

"'Good to see you, son' seems a little bit inappropriate at this point." John gestured to the gun. "With that pistol aiming for my brain and all."

"Don't call me 'son'. My father is dead. He's been dead for two years. I watched him die myself." Sam's face entered the light and John could see all the pain and whiskey and years.

"Who do you think I am, Sammy?"

"Don't call me Sammy." Sam glanced around the room. Saw the pictures of his brother and his family. "What is all this?"

"You really think your brother's family would let an impostor stick around, Sammy? You knew your brother. You think they wouldn't know the family secret?"

"I saw you die!"

"Quiet. Jack and Deanna are sleeping."

Sam's grip on the gun loosened. He looked nothing but tired. John stepped forward, casually knocking the gun out of his hand. Sam stared at him. "Is it really you?"

"Yeah, Sammy, it's really me." John pulled his son to him. A grown man with a long weary life behind him.

"John?" Liz stepped out into the room, her eyes on the gun. Her hand was splayed at her side and only John knew what that meant. She hadn't done it in years but she'd try if it meant his life.

"It's okay, Liz. This is Sammy. Dean's little brother." John turned slowly, just to make sure Sam was relaxed. "Sammy, this is Liz."

"She's not Dean's type." Sam blurted out.

"Which is probably how she got him to settle down." John wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "We just had a misunderstanding."

"Mom?" Jack's voice interrupted them.

"Jack, time for bed." Liz cleared the shake out of her voice.

"Wait." Sam held out his hand, stepping toward the boy. "Just wait."

Sam towered over the boy. He looked him over as he got closer. Then he knelt before he whispered. "Don't look at them. Tell me. Who is your father?"

"Dean Winchester." Came the automatic response. "That's my papa. John Winchester. Who are you?"

"Sam Winchester. I'm your uncle." Sam tried to smile but he'd been out of practice. "I'm your dad's baby brother."

"Papa?" Jack looked to his grandfather.

"It's okay. We're just going to be up talking. Go on back to bed." John nodded to the boy.

Liz edged past Sam and guided her son back to his room. Sam stared after them for a long while before moving to the shelf and its many snapshots of his brother's life. "Jack looks like Dean."

"Yeah." John nodded.

"Why didn't you tell me about them when he died?" Sam turned to face him.

"As I recall…" John realized that he didn't recall but he couldn't let Sam know that. "I didn't get many words in edgewise."

"If the little one is eight… then…" Sam trailed off.

"Dean had just told me about the baby before we went on that hunt." John nodded to Sam's tortured face. "Deanna never met him. I tell them stories about him. They know who he was." He watched Sam run his hand over the top of the shelf as he studied each picture. "Your brother built that shelf."

Sam blinked at his father. "You mean he put it together."

"He did that, too. He designed it. Cut the pieces. I helped him bang it together. I think he said it was four days worth of work."

"He never understood why I left." Sam sniffed suddenly.

"Give your brother credit, Sammy. He understood. I think he even came to agree with it but he…"

"He never forgave me for going to school."

"You never listened to him, did you." John shook his head sadly. "It wasn't about you going to school. I should have said myself but I never did. It was about your safety. It was about the way you left and slammed the door after you."

John left him to have a drink in the kitchen. He was onto his second when he heard them talking. Sam's voice in awe. "So, you tamed my brother."

"It wasn't hard. Little love, little lovin' and a lot of food." She whispered.

"Did he talk about me?"

"In very vague terms." She cleared her throat. "You're a painful subject for both of them."

"Painful?"

"When I met them, it was pretty obvious that they were in pain. It's probably why we all hit it off the way we did. Pain." There lay a silence for a bit. "They would get into these funks and it was about you. I could tell. We've had a rough time of it. Your dad was coming in and out of it and Dean didn't know what to do and I think he wanted to call you."

"Why didn't he?"

"You offended him by leaving, I think. Dean didn't really talk about his feelings that way but I've put the pieces together more or less. One of the things that I really responded to about him was his sense of family. I know half a dozen people who would have dumped their fathers in a home rather than pull them through the rough patches. Not Dean."

"I think he mentioned that Dad wasn't doing well… I just figured he meant drinking."

"I think he might have tried to commit suicide a time or two. Scared Dean very badly. Me too."

"My dad. Suicidal?"

"I think there's a lot that you don't know about those two men. The first real fight that Dean and I had… it was about you. I didn't understand at the time why you going to college was such a make or break thing. Then I found out about your mom and your life and all of Dean's sacrifices. Then I understood why they held on so hard. When… Dean died… I really thought that John was gonna go off the deep end." She took a shaking breath. "I think that if I hadn't been pregnant… Anyway, we make sure the kids know what kind of person Dean was. Jack has vague memories and Deanna only has her name, pictures and our stories."

"I wish I could have seen him being a dad."

"You did." There was a pause. "Your dad told me a lot more than Dean ever did about the sacrifices that Dean made growing up."

"Wow. You got my dad to talk."

"Mostly pillow talk but he… Sam, he really wasn't oblivious to the needs and wants of his children. He mostly focused on what he could fix and tried not to think about what he couldn't."

"Pillow talk?" John knew that tone in his son's voice.

"This is my house. You don't get to judge me. This is my family. You don't get to judge them."

"It's my family."

"Then where have you been for 15 years? I've been here. I've picked up the pieces of Dean and John in all that time and all I ever saw of you were the expressions on their faces after one of your phone calls to Dean. You had a father all that time, too." Liz's feet fell hard on the floor. "John, I'm going to bed. Escort your son out."

John passed Sam the bottle when the younger man stepped into the kitchen to make for the door. Sam sat at the table, placing his gun within reach. "So, was it you? You came to my home and stirred this shit up?"

"Yeah."

"I figured the second Emily told me that Mr. Rockford came to visit. The only one I know uses that alias is Dean and he's…"

"Say what you're gonna say, Sam." John poured himself a drink and waited for the hate-filled barrage of SAT words about what he was doing with Liz was wrong.

"She's half your age."

"Basic math begs to differ."

"She's Dean's wife."

John took a long swallow on his whiskey. "Emily's a good fifteen years your junior. She legal when you started fucking her?"

"Shut your mouth about Emily."

"Then shut yours about Liz. I don't have to explain myself to you."

"It's highly convenient that Dean dies the way he does and then you're fucking his wife."

"Bite your tongue, boy, or I'll cut it off." John tossed back his whiskey. "I've spent years of my life saving your brother. Making sure he'd come home to his girl and their kids and you think it doesn't kill me that I failed?" He rose unsteadily to his feet. "I came and got you cause I'm still hunting. I'm an old man and the kids are young. Jack's gonna need a man around to tell him about the world. Deanna's gonna need a good man to show her what gentlemen are supposed to be like."

"You sick or something?"

"I'm old. I'm not explaining my relationship with Liz to you. Just know that I came and got you because your family will need you when I'm gone and it'll fall to you to hold them together. I got a Shtriga to kill." John didn't even bother to go back for his bag. He walked out the door and kept walking.

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

Part 19

Liz sat on the edge of the bed while Dean packed his things. "Just tell him."

"I can't." Dean shook his head. "I can't."

"Tell him." She insisted.

"Liz, I just can't. He needs me to have his back."

"Does he have yours?" She winced even as the words were out of her mouth. John would never let anything happen to Dean if he could stop it. It didn't mean that John did all he could to secure Dean's happiness… if John even knew how to do that.

"Shut up." Dean sniffed and zipped the bag up. He stared at her for a long moment. "It's the same one, though, I can feel it."

"Why?"

"It was the cards last month."

"Dean. It's a superstition and Bobby says that you've never been superstitious."

"It's the cards." Dean sat down near her but not next to her on the bed. "When I was a kid, I screwed up. Sammy almost died." He took a deep breath. "Dad… told me to… stay in the room, watch after Sammy and I… started climbing the walls after a couple of days. I snuck out after he fell asleep. I… I left him alone and when I came back, the Shtriga was in there with him. It was… feeding on him and I hesitated to take the shot. It got away."

"Dean…" She breathed out. The guilt that her boyfriend carried around with him.

"Dad blamed me. I know he did. He… looked at me different after that."

John was cold, hard but not cruel. Surely… "Dean, I'm sure…"

"He did. Maybe… it doesn't make sense to you but I've learned that if I want to stay alive, I have to listen to him. He knows what he's talking about." Dean cleared his throat and focused on the floor. "My dad hasn't always been the best that he could be. He did try though and given what we've all been through… He does what he thinks is best and it usually turns out well."

"Dean."

"Liz, I saw my mother burning on the ceiling of my baby brother's nursery. Don't tell me that you understand what happened to me. I was four. She was my mother. He was… about my age now, maybe a little older and she was the love of his life." He turned to face her. "You told me what losing Max did to you. Imagine feeling that for the rest of your life and not getting to see him again."

"Okay." She nodded. "I don't think he blamed you. People… can do awful things in the face of grief."

"Yeah, I know you know that." He nodded to himself. "I gotta do this."

"You're scared… and that's going to make you sloppy."

"Maybe." He hitched the bag onto his shoulder and opened the door. "I'm… gonna take a walk. I'll… I'll be right back."

--

John's hands shook as he splashed his face with water. He turned and stared at the empty double bed beside his. It had been that way awhile but he knew where he could find Dean. Had taken a small measure of comfort in knowing that Dean could be found with a quick trip across the parking lot. Had been able to let go that much but not enough to let the fates play as they would with his life. Not enough that John wouldn't come back if Dean didn't call. Not enough to keep from calling once a week when he didn't hear from him. Not enough to let go of him.

Dean had answered on the first ring. Had been asleep but woke enough to get the details of the job down. Had asked unspoken questions with his tone that John had ignored. Dean would help him get the job done. He would because he knew it had to be done. John had raised him right enough that Dean would do this for him. Would face down the thing that John had failed to kill for Sammy. John wanted a drink but made himself stay away from the stuff. His leg was healing okay but chilly weather would make the bone scream and probably always would. Dean was young and strong and skilled. John had raised himself an evil-killing machine. It pained him just as much as it made him proud.

Gathering the last of his things, he tossed the key on the bed and made for the Impala. It was sitting in the front lot but Dean was missing. Bag in the trunk, keys nowhere in sight. Taking a breath, John turned to the staircase on the side of the building. Liz was sitting on the railing with a glass in her hand, the dregs of an iced tea on the bottom. "Where is he?"

"He went for a walk." She replied, ice and stone in her voice. John knew better than to press but he couldn't let it go at that. Dean knew they had a hunt. He pulled out his phone. Liz kicked it out of his hand. It went clattering to the boards next to the front door. "Ooops."

"You have something to say to me?" John bent to pick it up, his leg protesting, knee creaking.

"Maybe." She tipped the glass into her mouth, taking in a mouthful of ice and bitter water. She didn't continue, so John attempted to enter the apartment. "He's not in there. He went for a walk."

"We don't have time for this, Liz." He sighed but turned to face her. She was pissed. "What?"

"You have surgery to remove the pins from your leg, then you disappear for a whole fucking month. You pop up out of the blue and say 'Dean, there's this Shtriga.' And you just expect him to go."

"Yeah, I do." He turned to walk away but she jumped off the rail and onto the top stair, almost toppling onto him.

"John. He's tired. He's had a crappy week and you're gonna make him drive to Wisconsin?"

"Dean will do what needs to be done." He managed to get all the way down the stairs and into the lot before she responded.

"John! You can't keep riding him like this!" Liz threw the glass at her boyfriend's father's head. It shattered on the edge of the overhang on the porch.

"Watch it." He turned. He didn't yell but his tone was unmistakable. His boots crunched on the broken glass. "Until you, my son was just fine doing his job."

"Until me, he didn't know the difference between living his life and working the job."

"You're just a girl. You don't think he's got them all over?" He smirked at the look on her face and crossed the lot to where his son had parked the car.

She stilled. She knew all about Dean's sordid past with women. "This is different."

"Tell yourself that."

"I'm pregnant, John. You gonna take my baby's father away? For what? A demon that you can't beat?" She crossed the lot to stand up next to him. "I know what Dean is. I've never had any illusions about us but you're going to take him away from what he could have… because why? Because you can't let him go? You can't let him make his own decisions?"

"Dean doesn't do anything that he doesn't want to do."

"Unless you order it done." She countered. "You know it's true. If you ordered him to never see me again, he'd walk. He loves you more than anything in this world and… it shouldn't be a bad thing except that he puts your love above everything else in this world. Above his own needs… Let him go."

"Hey… what's going on?" Dean strolled into the lot, slowly. He had clearly just missed something.

"Mount up. We've got a job to do." John ordered his son without taking his eyes off the slight girl in front of him.

"Dad?" He blinked at his father then looked to his girlfriend. "Liz?"

"You don't bring him back so I can tell him myself… and I will light you up." Liz turned to face Dean. "You call me when the job is done."

"What the hell?" Dean's eyes whipped from her to his father. Then she had stormed back to her apartment over the store where she worked. Arms raised, he shook his head at the sky. He finally gave up and started for the Impala's driver's side. His father rested his hands, clasped, on the roof of the car. "Sir?"

"Hey, Deano… um…" This was gonna be hard. The future that he was trying to prevent was falling into place and there was nothing he could do but try something else.

"Deano? You haven't called me that since…" He trailed off, laughter dying as soon as it had started.

"You would tell me if you couldn't do the job anymore, right?"

"Why couldn't I do the job?" His back stiffened as he searched his memory for any reason his father might think he couldn't do the job.

"If you didn't want this life…"

"Dad? What's going on?"

"Maybe you sit this one out, huh? I'll call Jefferson to meet me." John pushed away from the car.

"Dad! Come on. Let's go. You've been hounding me since this morning about this job." Dean rounded the car to catch up with his father. "And anyway, Jefferson's scared shitless."

"Maybe Sam had the right idea." John admitted to his eldest son. "Maybe expecting the two of you to just… fall in was too much. I… I got to live my life. School, jobs, wife and kids… you two…"

"Dad…" Dean's voice cracked. He'd never seen his father like this.

"You stay. I'll call Jefferson or Caleb. I'll talk to you when I get the job done. You give me your answer then."

"What answer?" Dean watched helplessly as his father walked away. "What the fuck is going on?"

--

Jefferson wouldn't have anything to do with him. Caleb was more lenient but he wouldn't do it either. Time was running short. John showed up and did his thing. He knew which kids would get sick and in which order. It was the motel boy next and getting them to trust him was going to be a challenge. Single mother of two boys. John paid for his room with cash and watched the older boy cater to his little brother, just the way Dean had often done with Sammy.

The woman cleared her throat loudly, and pointedly. "Upstairs or down?"

"Down, please." He cleared his throat but didn't avert his eyes. "Sorry, just… missing my boys."

"You have young children?"

"No." He took a breath. "Full grown men, now. Feels like it was yesterday they were that age." He nodded to her boys. "They grow up fast."

She laughed. "That they do."

"Hey Mom! No cruising for sugar daddies on the job." The oldest called out.

"Michael." She chided. She turned back to John. "I'm so sorry. He's inherited his father's mouth and there's no controlling it."

"Well, that's what the closet monster is for." John tilted his head to the boy. "Not trying to be your daddy but-"

"Treat your mother with some respect. Pays off later when you're trying to get a date." A familiar voice spoke from the doorway.

John turned to find his oldest leaning there. "Thought you weren't coming."

"I never said that." Dean shook his head. "Sweetheart, mind making that room a double?"

"Queers." Came the mouth off that boy.

"Hey, kid." Dean caught his eye. "Lay off, will you? You've only got one mom and you're driving her nuts."

She tried to contain her laughter but turned to her boys. "Eat your dinner or there's no dessert tonight or ever again."

John clapped his hand on Dean's shoulder and squeezed. There was something undeniably light about Dean's demeanor. Something very… carefree. When he heard the throat clearing again, he realized that he was staring at Dean, which was making the younger man uncomfortable. "Double bed, downstairs. Anything else I can do for you gentlemen?"

"Get him a tissue. I think my dad is having one of those mushy moments that belong inside a Hallmark card." Dean blurted out. John couldn't resist pinching the muscle between his fingers, which made Dean yelp.

She bit her lip and handed over the keys and the change. "Have a good night."

Dean led the way to the room where he'd already parked the Impala and waited while his dad drove the truck over. "Okay, so explain to me why this two-man job is okay for you to do alone."

"You didn't come."

"You didn't give me the option of coming. I talked to Bobby, Caleb and Jefferson and was informed by each that you felt it was a two-man job." Dean cleared his throat. The lightness wore off for a moment, which made John frown.

"I just think so." John nodded.

"Then let's kill it." Dean pulled his bag from the trunk and handed his father his. "You left that behind. Figured you'd need your journal."

--

Dean spent the afternoon cleaning his guns. He asked a few questions but didn't push when John didn't give up the details. He kept glancing around though. John guessed that Dean wanted to say something but wasn't ready to. He wondered if Liz had given Dean his news yet but wouldn't pry. That was a man's news to give to his father.

"So, uh, Dad, how exactly are we tracking this thing?"

John looked up. "I know where to look."

"Where is that?"

"The front desk."

"The front… how do you know those boys are next?" Dean blinked at him. John only shrugged. "Well, how do we kill this thing? I mean, you can't exactly sneak up behind it with consecrated iron rounds."

John frowned at his son. "How did you know about the iron rounds?"

"Dad… I…" Dean's good mood slipped entirely. "I know that it's my fault that this thing is still walking around-"

"Son. What in the hell are you talking about?" John stared at his boy for the longest time and then he remembered. Fort Douglas. "Jesus, Dean." Head in his hands, John sank onto his bed. He had really fucked up his kids. He had failed them in ways they didn't even know about. Tears pricking at his eyes, he summoned the courage to stand up. "Jesus." He turned to look at his son. "Your mother owes me the biggest ass kicking in the universe, Dean. Every time you say something like that, I remember and it's only going to get worse. At this point, I'm going to be sleeping on the celestial couch for all time after I die."

Dean tried not to show his confusion. He had no idea what his dad was talking about. He was very close to believing that his father had finally lost it when he saw the tears in his father's eyes. "Dad?"

"Fort Douglas was a mistake, Dean. That's all it ever was." A lifetime of guilt slammed down on John right in that moment. "I didn't handle myself too well in those days… maybe I still don't. I was tracking it on foot. Son of a bitch moves quick. By the time I caught up to it, it was already inside the motel and I froze in the parking lot because I knew that you and your brother were the only two kids in the motel that week."

Dean blinked at his father. Tilted his head and studied the man. "You froze?"

"It happens sometimes. Kids I save remind me too much of you or your brother at any particular age. Think I see your mom out of the corner of my eye." John wiped the moisture from his eyes and looked his son in the eye. "I need you to understand what I've always tried to tell you. I'm just a man. I'm not a superhero. I had to learn everything that I know when I was nearly too old to learn it."

The younger Winchester tilted his head further. "Yeah well, I always thought Batman was a pussy. There were no repercussions from any of his injuries."

That made John laugh.

"I have an idea to get us in that room but uh… you can't tell Liz about it."

--

John sat the younger one, Asher, on his knee and showed him how the camera worked. Their very nervous mother sat beside them and watched on the monitor as her oldest son pretended to sleep with an armed man under his bed. "Joanna, I'd tell you to relax but I know you won't."

"He's my baby." She whispered, a finger sliding along Michael's still form on the monitor. "This is crazy."

"Your baby is in there… but so is mine." John laid a hand on her arm. "I can still remember the way I felt the first time I held him in my arms."

"Your baby has a gun." She bit out at him.

John cleared his throat and covered Asher's ears. "I had a vision that Dean would be killed by this thing. The last thing I want is for him to be in the room with that monster."

"Why is he in there and you're in here?"

"People keep telling me to let him go." John pondered that statement for a long moment. "I keep trying to save him and I never once thought of letting him save himself."

"He's a handsome, charming young man."

"He likes to think so." John chuckled. "His brother and I always tease him about that."

"You have another son?"

"He's… gone to college. He didn't much like the family trade." He cleared his throat. "To his credit, it doesn't make any money and it doesn't make for much of a life."

"Then why do you do it?" She bit her lip the second the words were out.

"The things I know now… I didn't know when my wife was killed." He explained briefly. "I raised my boys alone. I've seen things that give my nightmares nightmares. The only comfort is that other families are not as torn up as mine is."

"How old were they?" Joanna laid her hand over his. "When the monster killed your wife?"

"Four years and six months. They've never known another life."

Asher leaned against John, comfortable as anything. Trusting. When had his boys last been able to do that? "There's a ghost in the window."

Joanna and John's eyes snapped to the monitor. There was a black shadow climbing in the window. John passed Asher to his mother and picked up his gun from the floor. He watched the shadow cross the room. "Okay, Dean. Look alive."

It happened so fast that by the time the Shtriga started feeding, John ran for the door. The gun blasts reached his ears. He threw open the door and Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, rocking Michael in his arms. "Sh. It's okay. It's dead. It's dead."

"John?" Joanna clutched Asher tight against her body.

"He's okay. They're both okay."

--

Dean chatted amiably all the way to Bobby's. John tried to brush away the nervousness in his belly from that damned Shtriga. There was something different in Dean since he arrived for the hunt. It was so much more pronounced now. Dean kept looking at him like he wanted to tell him something but he kept his mouth shut. Just cranked up the radio and started singing along… like he didn't have a care in the world. "All of my love, all of my love. All of my love for you."

--

Bobby welcomed both men into his home with a beer each. John rolled his tongue over the oiliness of the first sip. He didn't call Bobby on it. Things were starting to heat up in the spirit world. Every man took his own precautions. John fell right into bed after a brief and calm recap of the hunt were Dean was the star.

When he woke there was easy conversation over bacon and eggs… and Bobby eying him strangely all morning. As the day wore on, the tension built until Dean declared that he needed to get back to his lady and wanted some conversation on the way.

John waited until Dean was doing his tune ups on the engine before he addressed Bobby. "You got something to say, say it."

"There's something wrong with you." Bobby came out with it.

"What?"

"It's not demonic. You've walked over and under every trap I know. You drink holy water the whole time you're here without flinching but I know there's something wrong about you, John." Bobby's hat hid his eyes in shadow so that John couldn't see what was in them. "It kills me to say that but I know it. There's something wrong about you and… I don't want to be the one that kills you before you do something about it."

"What do you think is wrong about me?"

Bobby stared at his friend. "Something got into you, John?"

"What are you talking about Bobby?" The more Bobby talked, the more uneasy John felt. He wished there was something wrong with him.

"I'm talking about I known you for almost 20 years and you never gave a woman a passing glance… and then I seen you that day… watching your boy's girl like you know her."

"What are you on about?"

"I'm talking about you staring at that girl like... If I didn't know better, I'd think you were possessed."

"Okay… I'll tell you what I've been hunting."

--

Dean glanced up at the house when the voices rose but didn't make a move for the door. He went about his duties, straining to make something out but the walls contained the words. He'd tasted the holy water in his beer. He'd fallen for all the useless errands into rooms that smelled like fresh paint. He wasn't stupid and there was something that both older hunters were not telling him.

--

"John! She's a girl! There's no such thing as aliens. She didn't put a spell on you!"

"How do you know that?"

"Cause, she doesn't have an ounce of magic in her body."

"Then she's got you snowed. She's used her… powers on me before. She straight out admitted it and threatened me if I took Dean away from her."

"She threatened you? She's a hundred pounds soaking wet."

"Bobby. She's not human."

"You're crazy. You're gonna get all three of you killed with your crazy talk, John."

"Bobby, dammit!"

"Get out, John."

"Look, I can explain. There's this wood."

Bobby grabbed his shot gun and used it to back John out of the house and off of his front porch. "Git."

"Bobby." John's posture stiffened when he hit the driveway. Dean was done loading up. "Come on, it's me."

"I don't know who you are. Git off my property." He cocked the shot gun.

John turned and climbed in behind the wheel. Dean shut the trunk then went around to the passenger side door.

"Dean." Bobby called out. "Take care of your daddy."

Dean didn't ask. He just tilted his head at Bobby for a moment before climbing in and his door was barely shut before they were on the freeway headed East.

TBC


	20. Chapter 20

Part 20

Vermont was chilly. It had its surprises too. Like good coffee houses with patios and great views. John sipped his coffee black, zipped up his jacket and thanked whoever was listening that Dean hadn't asked about what had happened in South Dakota with Bobby. John was a little ashamed at his desperate bids to justify any of his actions. If they didn't work on Bobby, then John had no other excuse for the things he'd done and the lies he'd perpetuated to keep going back to that future world.

Speak of the Devil; Dean sat down with some calorie-laden, cavity-inducing treat from the café and a mug of black coffee. He pinched a chunk off and popped it into his mouth. "Now, is that a sunrise or what?"

"It is a good one." John agreed.

Dean rolled his words around in his mouth for a long moment. "Hey Dad?"

"What's up?" John didn't take his eyes off the view.

"I need to tell you something."

John tore his eyes off the view to take in his son. Carefree and confident and owning himself like John had never seen. "What about?"

"About the question you didn't ask me before you left the Catskills." Dean cleared his throat and took a sip of his coffee. "It's about me and the hunt and Liz."

"Well, tell me, son."

"I love the hunt. It's what I know. I'm good at it… like you were saying in Fitchburg. I have that advantage over you. I've done this my whole life." He took a breath. "I'm good at other things too. I'm good with my hands; with engines; building furniture and shit…" He looked to his father who nodded at him to continue. "I love Liz. She's… everything to me and… well, I'm thinking that I'm going to live there with her."

"Sounds like you got it all planned out, son."

"Kind of."

"What's left?"

"Liz is pregnant. You're… gonna be a grandpa." Dean flashed a wary smile at his father.

John nodded to himself. There it was. "Congratulations, Dean."

"I know my life isn't normal and that it won't even be safe but-"

"I know it, Dean."

"But I can still hunt sometimes."

"Maybe."

"Dad?" Dean cleared his throat.

"Yeah, Dean?"

"I expected more yelling."

"I know it." John nodded and lifted his coffee to his lips. "Liz is a great girl. Treat her right."

"You aren't going to disown me?"

"No." John shook his head and turned to face his son. "Never."

"I just…"

"I know." John nodded to himself again and met his son's eyes. "I made a mistake with Sammy and I lost him. I'm not going to make the same mistake with you. I won't lose you, too."

Dean's eyes welled with tears but they didn't fall. He took the moment for what it was. "Alright, then."

John took a long swallow on coffee that hadn't cooled enough. He cleared the sting out of his throat. "And you said I'd only get grandkids through Sammy. Dean, you dog."

Then Dean couldn't stop laughing.

--

Liz served them dinner and smiled wanly. Dean tugged her over when she passed next and whispered something that John couldn't hear. She shook her head but leaned into him for a moment. Then she was moving. The back door was closer than the bathroom and then she was puking into the back lot. Dean took another bite of his burger. "She gets morning sickness at night."

"It happens." John stared at Dean for the longest time. "Have you told your brother?"

"No." Dean started to say something else but clenched his jaw then took a huge bite out of his burger. So John left it alone.

--

Liz gave them the tour of the guestroom turned nursery. "I know it's early and everything but I get a little crazy when I'm alone and bored."

John saw what they didn't. Where she'd put a rocking chair, ready to be stripped and painted, he saw the finished product in a rich cherry finish and cushions worn flat through two babies. He saw the bunk beds in blue and pink where Liz had tacked a picture of a cradle. John already knew that Dean was going to design and build it with his own bare hands.

"What's that, John?" Liz turned.

"Just wondering if the crib is gonna match the shelf out there for a theme." John cleared his throat.

"What? You think that shelf was a one hit wonder?" Dean puffed out his chest. "I will build the hell out of the damn crib." He glanced around. "Where did you put my notebook?"

When he was gone to look for it, Liz stood there picking paint off the rocking chair. She looked up at him from under the fall of her hair. "Thank you, John… for letting me tell him myself and for… not making him go."

"He still went."

"But it was very much his decision and that's really important to me. I've dealt with one husband with family obligations. I can't deal with another one."

"You're getting married?"

"Not in the strictest sense but… yeah." She averted her eyes. "He owns me."

"Look." Dean walked in scribbling and talking. "This is going to be the baddest crib ever…"

John sat in the rocker and watched them squabble over the design of the thing. His eyes strayed to the window once or twice. To the woods.

--

Aching and tired and nauseous, John trudged up the stairs with the key to his usual room. The corner one with double beds. He yanked the bottle of whiskey out of his bag for a chug before he pulled out the pre-paid phone he'd just bought at the corner store. He slid his fingers over the keys before punching out 10 digits. The call went to voice mail and so he hung up and took another slug from the bottle.

He contemplated the bottle long and hard before making the decision to finish it. He was torn. He could cross the lot and be welcomed the traveling hero from his grandkids and Liz or he would cross the lot and find that his son was alive and well and raising a family. He would never speak out loud how torn he was between the two. It had been so long since he had the kind of life that he looked forward to in the morning. A woman who drove him to distraction and kids that looked at him like he was the best thing ever invented.

Fallen asleep on top of the covers in boxers and a T-shirt, he was roused by the sound of the key in the lock. He almost called out 'occupied' but he knew the form that had slipped inside. Knew the soft slide of hands under his shirt and pulling his boxers down. The fall of hair over his bare belly before the slick glide of tongue and lips engulfed him. Moaning her name, he gave up and pulled his shirt over his head before dragging her mouth up to his. Stripped the tank and jeans off to feel the warm skin. Listened to hisses as he claimed breasts, belly button and velvet folds.

Everything was the same but different. Everything was more… John just couldn't put his finger on it. Something about everything was off. It wasn't until he was on his back, arching up into her shifting hips that he began to zero in on the difference. Her hair was different. Still long but the cut framed her face differently. Her breasts felt… fuller in his hands. The ease of the strokes that caused her gasps was noticeable. Gripping her hips, he bucked and tilted her just right and that's when it hit him.

Jerking her down and beneath him, he finished because he was too far gone to do anything else despite what he thought he knew. Riding out the ripples, he framed her face with his hands and tried to make sense of the last time he'd been there and what had happened that time. Sam had come. There had been words and revelations but before that. There had been a moment where she'd looked like the world was coming to an end. He knew but he didn't know and he couldn't make himself ask the right question. "Liz… we didn't use anything."

Her eyebrows arched over closed lids. "There's kind of no point, now." Her eyes were moist when she opened them, waiting for his reaction. "I was going to tell you before you left but… you left so suddenly. I wanted to ask you what you wanted to do but you left and you didn't say when you were coming back." She swallowed down the lump in her throat. "There's a lot of risk because of my age but… I couldn't bring myself to consider alternatives."

"Liz…"

"And I know we said we would never let it happen because… because of everything but it did happen and I don't know what you're thinking and I need you to say something."

"You're running out of room in the apartment. You'll have to stick this kid in a closet or something."

"That's not funny."

"Three in that little room is going to be a tight fit." John pointed out while he tried to wrap his mind around the fact that he was 51 years old and he was being told he was going to be a father again… Holy shit and this Liz thought he was 67 years old.

"John, stop." Liz shoved at him to make him roll off her. She sat up and hugged her knees.

"I… won't see this one graduate high school."

"I thought about that."

"You'll have to tell her about me. She'll learn about me the way Jack and Deanna learn about Dean."

"I know." She turned to look at him over her shoulder. "She?"

"I dunno. I had my two boys…"

"Why'd you leave, John?" She stretched out beside him once more. "I thought we were having a good time. Jack's play and everything. I went to the bathroom and when I came out, you were gone and the kids were asleep."

"Had something to take care of."

"Demons are going to be the death of you." She chided half-heartedly. "You never did talk to Sam again after what happened. You think if he had called you when it happened that maybe you could have gotten to it before… what happened to Dean?"

"It's all maybes by this point." John shrugged, filing the information away. "He… come by again?"

"You're implying that he's ever been here. Changing the subject." She pulled a chest hair just hard enough to hurt. "You've got to forgive him for Dean." At his silence, she sighed heavily. "He couldn't have known that the thing that killed Jess was the same thing that killed his mother. Dean always said that the two of you didn't talk to him about it."

"I don't think it would have mattered."

--

John's search was quick. He had a location on Dean's death. Cold Oak, South Dakota. He had a location on Sam. Same farm, different story. Somehow, when John had let Dean save himself, the future had changed significantly enough that a whole series of conversations and encounters had never happened.

John scoped out the land on his walk to Emily Hardin's ranch. The woman who answered had a different look to her than the last time he'd been out. She didn't remember him. Her blond hair fell over one eye and when she brushed it away, John could see the bruising. Fading but there… just like the finger marks on her throat. When she poured him tea, he saw fresher bruising where her bracelets couldn't hide them.

"You say you're looking for a Sam Winchester?" She winced as she said the name.

"I heard there was one out this way."

"Can't say that I've heard of him."

"I was told that he worked your ranch in the heavier seasons."

Her eyes shifted to a darkened hallway but she shook her head. "No, I know all my ranch hands and their histories. Never had a Winchester. Dad might've hired one way back but um… he's gone now. So is most of his crew. Just have Mute Larry and he's… well, mute and a bit slow to boot."

John studied her closely. She wasn't the smitten girl she'd been when he'd last spoken to her. He stared at her. Even her beauty was a bit faded. He knew what she was hiding and who she was hiding along with it. "Sammy's daddy would be ashamed to see what he's done to you."

Her eyes went wide but she didn't move an inch. Her eyes slid toward the hallway once more. "I really don't know what you're talking about." Her eyes squeezed shut when the tea cups rose into the air. John drew his gun and aimed it down the hallway. "Please. Stop."

John rose and stared into the inky darkness. "Samuel Winchester, I ought to take you over my knee for what you've done to this girl."

He could feel the glare of the gun on him but he underestimated the resourcefulness of his youngest son. The click of the hammer being pulled was in his ear even though the shape in the hallway didn't move. Steel kissed his temple and John shut his eyes. He'd been on the killing end of the gun too many times to really care but he had to know what had happened with the demon and Sam's girl. The voice was deeper than he remembered. "What are you?"

"I'm a who, not a what." John answered without opening his eyes, the gun jerked against his temple. John set his gun down to the unspoken request.

"Shapeshifter?"

The voice made John's blood run cold. "Name's John. It's on your birth certificate."

"You might look like him but you're not. My father died a year and a half ago. Saw it happen with my own two eyes." The barrel of the gun jabbed into his head again.

"I'm standing right here." John opened his eyes slowly. "You leave your family and then you don't even welcome them when they come looking for you." He eyed his grown son, the form emerging in the shadows as John's eyes adjusted to the darkness. "Did I raise you like that?"

"You think you're cute?"

"Sam, please." Emily spoke up from where she cowered in her chair.

"Shut up." Sam ordered her and she curled up into a ball, exposing the bruises on her legs when her skirt fell away. Sam emerged from the hallway to look John over. "It's clever. Looking like him but too bad, so sad. Not going to work. I killed Azazel, I will kill you."

"Fine. I'm not John Winchester. I'm some other creature that looks like him." John nodded and took a seat, the gun followed him. "I was just checking up on you Winchesters and figured my second stop would be tense but didn't quite expect this."

"Second stop?" Sam snickered. "You've been fed wrong information. I'm the only Winchester these days."

"Looked pretty alive to me."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"A boy and a girl back east. Cute." John studied Sam as much as he could. Sam had acquired bulk and kept it into middle age, which said a lot about the life he led.

"Right… I'm just supposed to believe I've got what… cousins?" Sam laughed and collapsed into the chair next to Emily's, who had yet to uncurl herself. "I'm the only one of my bloodline left. The Winchester line and the Azazel line. I'm it, pal."

John raised his hand to gesture that he had something in his jacket. He used the same hand to pull a picture out of his pocket. Jack and Deanna. "You're a biological dead end but your brother wasn't."

Sam ripped the picture from John's fingers without moving an inch. He absentmindedly patted Emily's knee and plucked the picture from the air when it floated over to him. The blood drained from his face. "This could be any two kids."

John pulled out his wallet and rifled through it to find the one he'd stolen. Dean and Jack at Jack's third birthday party. That one went the same way as the first. "Took that picture myself."

Sam's face changed when he saw the smile on his brother's face. "Dean would have told me if he'd had kids."

"Would he? As I recall, he was pretty hot under the collar about you for a good number of years after you took off."

Sam studied the pictures and his face became unreadable. "Well, the pictures are real enough, I guess but you're still about ten years too young to be my father."

"What can I say, I aged well."

"Not that well."

"Well, I live hard."

"I live hard. I'm not even certain that you're alive."

Sam wore the mantle of ranch hand the way he'd worn so many other guises as a kid. Just well enough that anyone off the street wouldn't know the difference. He stood, walking around as he studied the pictures, the gun floating off and away from John's head. Emily seemed to relax as Sam traveled away from her in his pacing. Sam turned at the doorway. "Don't think about moving. I'll be right back."

John thought about comforting the girl but she seemed to be waiting for something, relaxing in the moment. Then Sam returned with a phone in hand. "Who are you calling?"

"Someone sane." Sam muttered then cleared his throat. "Hey Bobby? … No, I know but I got something here claiming to be John Winchester…"

John cleared his throat and settled into his chair. He remembered how he'd parted with Bobby and it was sure to make an impression. Of course, he didn't know what kind of relationship Bobby had with Sam in these days.

"Well, he's trying to tell me that Dean had kids but that's just not…" Sam paled a bit but didn't let another expression cross his face. "You knew and never told me? … Fuck, Dean. He's dead… I know… So, if we salted and burned Dad's body, what's sitting in my living room?"

"Who, not what." John corrected.

"Shut up." Sam bit out. He cleared his throat. "Bobby wants to know about the last conversation you and he ever had?"

"The one that ended with his shotgun pointed at me?"

"You hear that?" Sam's floating menagerie settled down and the tea cups clinked back onto their plates. Emily sat up and wiped her hands over her face. She sipped at her cup, her hands only shaking a little. "What was it about?"

"Well, that's between me and Bobby about the specifics but the topic was involving a hunt, a woman and my sanity."

"Bobby says it's close enough." Sam stared. "But if you're really him. What the hell did we salt and burn?"

--

Emily poured a couple of glasses of bourbon while Sam made a round of phone calls that he didn't want John to know about. "It's not what you think, you know."

"What's that?" John took the glass when she handed it out.

"He just doesn't know his own strength sometimes."

"Yes, he does. I raised him. Taught him to know exactly how strong he is."

She took a long sip of her bourbon and set the glass down carefully. "He's a good man."

"Some tips, give as good as you get. Cold the first night on a bruise, heat until the color fades." He tossed back his bourbon and made for the door.

He could hear them talking and yelling as he kept walking. He didn't have to wait long. Sammy's invisible force fields kept John from hitting the road. He was not in the mood for this. Not fully wrapping his mind around what had happened to his baby boy. Something had happened to him. Something not right. Floating tea cups. Telekinesis. All his research on the thing that killed Mary. All the pieces falling into place. When the younger man towered over him, John didn't know what to say except, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For whatever's happened to you."

"This?" Sam gestured to himself. "There was never any escaping this. From day one, was there? Mom and her unholy pacts. Dean and his inability to accept that people die."

"What does your brother have to do with you and your very demonlike abilities?"

"Well nothing except that I was born second. I was the one with demon blood inside me the whole time and you never said a word. You knew when Jess died what I was going to become and you couldn't even warn me."

"You could have fought it."

"Fight my blood?"

"How long did it take you to give in?"

"I held out."

"How long?"

"Why are you even here?"

"To see if I could trust you to look after your brother's kids but obviously you're not the one for the job." John walked right up to him, nose to nose. "I don't want you anywhere near those kids. They don't belong to the world the way we did. I won't have you bringing it into their lives."

"Oh, I see. It was good enough for your sons but not for your grandkids."

"Hell no. We could fight it. They can't. They won't. They don't have to."

"Dean was always your favorite. Figures you'd let him out of the baggage that comes with being your blood."

"It's not about favorites, son. It's about doing what's right. There's only one thing left to do. You killed your mother's murderer. Good. Now live your life and do something about the evil running in your veins."

"You make it sound so easy."

"It's not. I expected you to try harder to keep that shit under control. Terrorizing a farm girl to make yourself feel good? Making her think she deserves it or you don't mean it when I taught you to spar with your brother without leaving a bruise?" Sam's head bowed. John gripped him behind his neck. "I taught you to kill with a touch and I'm supposed to believe those bruises were accidents?"

"What am I supposed to do?"

"If Bobby never told you about the kids, it was for a reason. You wait for him to tell you it's okay to see 'em. Clean yourself up. You tell Bobby that I'm fixing this. I'll fix it all." John turned and walked away, invisible barriers falling away.

TBC


	21. Chapter 21

Part 21

John walked into the diner and ordered a cup of coffee. He had gotten to the bottom of it when the other side of his booth was filled with an old, gray face. It made John wish he smoked. Bobby flipped his hat off his head and thwapped it against the window sill. "Hell, I thought Sam was crazy until I laid eyes on you."

"That so?" John motioned for another cup.

"It explains a lot about the last time I saw you… which, by the look of you, was yesterday." His beady eyes raked John over. "Was it yesterday for you?"

"Close to it." Leave it to Bobby to notice right off the age difference.

"We really did salt and burn you two years ago, didn't we."

"I think so."

Bobby's eyes drifted to the waitress on the other side of the restaurant, who smiled and waved at him. "She never found out about you dying. I never thought to call her. Sam didn't know about her."

"She never found out." John agreed. "She didn't miss a beat."

"How are you here, John? I don't remember you going missing for two years."

"No… I took a walk one day and I ended up here. Dean's gone… and then I take a walk right back and Dean's alive."

"You sure?"

"The first time… I might have been drunk. Figured I dreamed it up. How does that happen? Walking fifteen years into the future." John rubbed a hand over his face. "Jesus, and I met Sam the other day and that was a slap in the face."

"You been going back and forth?"

"Yes! I've been saving Dean this whole time. Trying to prevent the things that I'm finding and he keeps dying."

"You been changing things?"

"Of course! I can't let him die."

"Calm down, John." Bobby raised his hands slowly. "I know how much your boys mean to you. I know what you were like right after Sam left. Just calm down." He clasped his hands on the table. "You know… off the top of my head… someone says something about woods and booze and waking up years in the future and I think of Rip Van Winkle."

"Well, I didn't meet with any trolls or funny old men. I just walk right on through. I don't even need to be drunk."

Both men shut their mouths when Liz walked up to the table. She refilled John's cup and was about to ask Bobby what he'd like when she slammed the coffee pot down on the table and ran for the back door. John sipped his cup and waited for Bobby to comment. Liz returned after she had rinsed her mouth out. She poured Bobby a cup and one for herself. "I'm too old to do this again."

John glanced her over. She still looked a little green. "You off soon?"

"Hour more. Kids will be home hour after that." Liz shrugged her shoulders and stretched her back. She gulped the coffee down then picked up the pot to return to her other tables.

John didn't look up but he could feel the heat of Bobby's glare. "I know it. Bobby, don't give me grief."

"You knocked her up? John, are you crazy?"

"Been accused of it."

"You gotta walk back through and not come back. You can't keep coming back and expect much will change."

"Well, I don't have your help when I walk back through, Bobby. You don't believe me."

"All that shit you spun me was you trying to justify yourself. It wasn't the truth."

"Well, now you know. Tell me what I do when I go back."

"Why did you go see Sam, John?"

"Can you believe what he's become, Bobby? How did he get like that?"

Bobby took a breath and figured John would ignore what he wanted and focus on what he thought he needed. "I won't say I saw it coming but when Azazel killed his girl, things were going on with that boy and after the big showdown that got Dean killed, Sam just walked on over to the darkside to do as he saw fit." He lifted a hand to stay John's tongue. "I'm not saying the boy is evil but the line of good and evil that he's on is broad and fuzzy."

"When did his girl die?"

"Near as I can figure, before that night with Dean's Dead Man's Hand. Don't know how long before."

"So, it's too late for me to save her."

"But not to save him."

--

John stared long and hard at the picture they made before making his presence known. Dean flipped through the book and scratched his head. "What happened to normal names?"

"Like what?" Liz lay on the floor with her feet propped on the couch next to Dean's knee.

"John and Mary and Sam. Look at this thing. "Cindi with an 'I' and Cyndy with two 'y's. It's ridiculous." Dean snorted. "Danyael spelled 'y-a-e-l', when did the world go crazy?"

"I'm partial to John, myself." He announced with a clearing of his throat.

"Hey, John." Liz smiled but didn't get up.

"Hey, Dad." Dean turned with a grin. "Might get confusing with two Johns around."

He jerked his head towards the hallway. "Mind if I use your guest room for a private phone conversation?"

"Um… sure." Dean frowned but nodded and pointed. There was no reason to ask or to utter the phrases. He waited a minute before picking up the extension in the kitchen against Liz's glare.

The phone rang in John's ear. He could hear confusion in the voice that answered. "Hello?"

"Sammy?"

"Dad?"

"I'm not picking a fight with you, son but… why didn't you call after the fire?"

A long silence. "Who told you about the fire?"

"Word gets around." John wished he could see the boy's face so that he would know what he was thinking. "She died then?"

"Yeah, Dad." There was a long shaky breath. "Her name was Jess… and she died."

"Tell me how it happened." Silence. "Sam. Was she on the ceiling?"

"Yes. She was on the ceiling. She burned. Okay?"

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"Well, you weren't talking to me. I don't know what good it would have done."

"At the very least, we could have gone back to get you, Sam. That's… not something you should have to deal with alone." John bit back more reprimands. "It's good to hear your voice, son. I am sorry about your girl."

"What are you and Dean hunting?" Sam cleared his throat. "I'll meet you."

"Well, Dean's not been much for hunting these days but I'd suggest you hear it from him, not me." John couldn't hide the smile in his voice. "We're in New York, Catskills. Tiny little nothing in the mountains. Cooling our heels for now. I'll be checking on what happened to your girl. I'm still looking for that son of a bitch. I'd welcome your help."

"I… I'll come."

--

Liz looked up from her midnight snack and cleared her throat to warn John she was sitting there. "You're going back to the motel?"

"Maybe." John nodded as he polished off his whiskey.

"You leaving in the middle of the night or are you going to wait for Sam to show?"

"Still thinking that one out."

"Please, wait." She stirred the melting remains in her bowl. "I'm glad you called him. I know that it was a battle of wills who was going to call who first but… you are the… um… more mature option in that equation."

"Yeah, I know. I know. Took me long enough."

"How did you know? About his girlfriend?"

"He talks to some people still."

"You are welcome to stay here, you know."

"I know."

Liz dumped her bowl in the sink and ran the water through it. She stood over him, one hand resting on the small belly she'd grown since he'd last seen her. "Get some rest, John. You look better than you've been."

She kissed the top of his head and ran right into Dean coming to look for her. "Hey… save some of that for me." He pressed a kiss to her forehead then turned her to face his dad. "Look at this thing. She just popped right out." He pointed to her belly. "She's barely pregnant."

"Yeah." John nodded to Dean's excitement. "Well, she's a little woman. Hiding a Winchester isn't easy."

"Okay. Enough baby talk. It gets him all riled up and then he can't sleep." Liz cleared her throat to remind them she was still in the room. "Night, John. Come on Dean. We're going to have a talk about boundaries."

--

Dean sat hunched over the table with a lamp and his tools. "Dad, what's the sigil we used back in St. Louis?"

John peered at the leg of the cradle then traced out the sigil he had used on that hunt. "Are you just going to cover the thing in mystical sigils?"

"Well, some of them are for protection… and some of them just look cool." He tilted his head at his dad. "But they're all safe."

"I trust you." John rubbed Dean's head and lifted a second leg to examine the carvings. "Smooth bevels."

"I do try."

"So, what have you been doing for money?"

"On call at the body shop. When they don't need me, I do a turn at the register downstairs… and on slow weeks… I head to the next town over for some good old fashioned pool sharking." Dean grinned. "Locals know me already but they still don't learn."

"Guess they like giving you their money."

"They should just hand it over when I walk in but… gives Liz some space. She says I smother her."

"I wonder why she would say that." John teased as he lowered himself into a chair.

"Maybe… I talk a lot… and I ask a lot of questions… and I don't go away on hunts as often as I used to." Dean shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Maybe I… hang around to see if she needs anything."

"Also, you smell bad."

"What are you talking about, I shower."

"It's a hormone thing son. Right now, your smell skeeves her out. She'll snap at you for no reason. Burst into tears over a long distance phone commercial. Your mom made me sleep on the couch for a month when she was pregnant with you… and two months when she was pregnant with your brother."

"Is that why you slept with me before Sammy was born?"

"That's right. I did." John laughed as he recalled the forts and late night man-to-man talks with his nervous four-year-old. "I had forgotten about that."

"I remember some pretty random shit." Dean shrugged and grinned.

"At least you can remember it."

The grin faded. "So… that pretty girl that we saw hanging all over Sammy… she died?"

"Yeah."

"The thing that killed Mom did it?"

"Looks that way."

"Then why are we sitting here?"

"It's long gone. Sam… was on top of things."

"He's out of practice."

"No, he was taking care of himself."

"Since when are you on the Sammy-bandwagon?"

"Since I realized how much I fucked up my family, Dean." John stared at his now petulant son. "And unless I do something now, it's only going to get worse in ways that can't be fixed."

"Dad… is this part of your near-death break down?"

"Maybe."

"But you're still the baddest badass Dad, right?"

"Well, of course."

"Alright then. I'll deal with the shithead when he gets here."

"Don't call your brother a shithead… he's in mourning."

"Well, he's still a douchebag."

"That's between the two of you."

--

Sam could see them through the window, hear them if he listened hard enough.

"Dean Winchester, get your hands off my stove and scrub that grease off your fingernails before you dare taste my sauce."

"Fine. Fine." Dean trudged over to the sink, but not before he wrapped his hands around her middle and left grease stains all over a shirt with some local band's logo on it. It earned him a smack upside the head… and a deep rumbling laugh from the table's sole occupant.

The girl gasped suddenly and grabbed her middle, which was basketball shaped under the pressure of her hands. "I think it kicked."

Dean placed his hand over her belly and grinned after a moment. "I'm not an expert but I think you're right."

"John, feel." She stepped to the table and forced his hand to her belly. "It's kicking, right?"

"That is a kick. Strong one." After a moment, John turned so he could place both hands on her belly. "If I'm not mistaken, this is a Winchester boy."

"Proud grandpa on the loose." She teased and took her belly back to the stove to finish fixing dinner. "Watch out. It's too soon to know the sex, John."

"Call it a feeling… and like I keep saying. John's a good strong name for a boy."

"We'll keep it in mind." Dean snorted as he dried his hands. "What about Jonah?"

"Judah." The brunette corrected. "Judah."

"Judah Winchester… that's for a girl, right?" John laughed.

"I told you!" Dean jabbed a finger at her.

"It's a man's name. It was my grandfather's name." She smacked his finger away.

"What's your dad's name?" John prompted.

"Jeff."

"That's the name of a college student." Dean protested.

"Your brother's a college student."

"But he has a man's name."

That made Sam laugh enough that he had to knock a moment later. Dean froze but crossed the kitchen to open the door. "Hey."

"Hey." Dean nodded, then glanced behind him. "So, you smelled food all the way from California and came running?"

"Um… Dad… invited me." Sam shifted his weight awkwardly.

"What's the matter with you?" Dean jerked his brother into the apartment and hugged him. "You're family, little brother." After a moment, Sam returned the hug, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears. Then Dean shoved him away. "Dude, come on. We're family but not that kind."

That made Sam laugh. "Glad to see that some things never change."

"Hey Sammy." John had risen and gave Sam the hug he'd been looking for.

"Hey Dad?" Sam's shoulders hitched only once. "This really you?"

"Yeah, Sammy. It's really me." He ran his hand through the mop of hair on his boy. "You need a haircut."

Snorting back a laugh, Sam stepped back. "Yeah, it's really you."

"Hey, Sammy, this is Liz." Dean hung his arm over his girlfriend's shoulders. "She's family, too."

"Hi, it's good to finally meet you." Liz held out her hand.

Sam shook it firmly, eying her belly the whole time. "Some other news, Dean?"

"Yeah. Observant, this one." Dean jerked his thumb at Sam. "Yeah, Sam. Liz and I are having a baby."

"What's this you and I business?" Liz stared up at him. "You're not carrying the bladder-kicker. Excuse me."

Dean watched her go for a moment before turning back to his brother. "Well, sit down. I'll save dinner before it burns."

John and Sam sat for a minute so that the younger man could take in all the changes in the world. "It's like walking into the Twilight Zone." Sam wiped a hand over moist eyes. "When did you guys settle down?"

"I settled." Dean clarified. "And it hasn't been so long, I guess."

"And you're on board with this?" Sam looked to his father.

"I made a lot of mistakes in my life, Sam." John took a breath. "Not the first of them… that fight we had… I never wanted this life for you boys. It took… a few long walks and a drunken stumble into the hospital to open my eyes. Maybe a talk or two with a certain stubborn young lady." Liz snorted from her spot in the doorway, sporting a clean shirt. "I owed you boys a choice that I never had."

"Well, it's not a choice for me anymore." Sam's eyes welled with moisture. He cleared his throat. "I… had been about… to ask Jess to marry me. I… had planned it out and all I needed… was to get accepted to law school…"

"Did you get accepted?" Liz prompted.

"I um… missed the interview because I had to sit with Jess's parents to identify the body."

"How about that?" John nodded to himself. "My son, in law school."

"Well, I figured that you'd need a lawyer sooner or later."

"Okay, Matlock. Eat your dinner." Dean slid a plate under his nose and one under his father's, then looked at the table. "Hey… uh, Liz… do you realize that we only have three chairs?"

"Sit, I'll eat in a minute." She waved him on. Then sat reluctantly when he held the chair out and placed a piled plate in front of her. "I can wait the ten minutes it's gonna take you to inhale this plate."

"That's yours and anyway… you're eating for two now."

"Or six… you know… the way Dean eats. The kid could have four stomachs too." Sam grinned at his brother's bitchface.

"I can still whoop your ass." Dean motioned for his brother to come at him.

"You're on."

"Boys. Enough. Eat your dinner before it gets cold and don't make me remind you the rules about sparring in the house." John jabbed his fork at each in turn.

"You raised two boys, huh." Liz bit her lip as she twirled pasta on a fork. Sam settled in to eat his dinner. Dean took his on the counter top. "So, um, Sam. I have to ask. What's your stance on aliens?"

John nearly choked on his mouthful of spaghetti. Sam blinked at his father, then glanced at his totally sober brother. "Um… I hadn't really thought about it."

"Well, Dean thinks that aliens are cool as long as the chicks are hot and they don't want to blow the world up. John thinks they're evil and should go away."

"I never said that." John stabbed his fork into his plate. "My concerns about aliens had nothing to do with evil." His eyes flicked to Dean and back to his plate. "Besides, I thought we came to a truce about that."

Dean waved his fork at Sam. "Don't mind them. They have cryptic conversations like this a lot. Dad likes to spill his guts to pretty girls when he's drunk."

"I thought we all learned our lesson about pretty girls with Miss Lyle." Sam shook his head.

"Oh, Dude! I forgot about Miss Lyle!" Dean exclaimed.

"Who was Miss Lyle?" Liz prompted.

"She was this demonic teacher that Sam had."

"Dean." John shook his head but the younger man kept talking.

"Dad totally fell for her." Dean forked more pasta into his mouth.

"Turns out she was—" Sam started but Liz cut him off.

"A demon?" Liz guessed.

"She tried to kill Sam and I was telling Dad the whole time that something was wrong with her but no one believed me. She had him so snowed."

Liz saw John's frown and the way he rubbed his forehead but the boys kept talking until long after their spaghetti was gone and John's was a congealed mess on his plate. "Dean? Could you make a run to the ice cream place before it closes?"

"Now? I've got like two minutes to get there." Dean checked his watch.

"Please?"

"Yeah, okay. Dad? You want?"

"No, I'm good." John shook his head.

"Sam?"

"I'll come with." Sam got to his feet.

After a minute in the quiet, John picked up his plate and dumped it in the trash. He found Dean's whiskey and poured himself a drink. Liz followed him outside, across the lot and up to the bench overlooking the woods. "It's been a long time since we were up here." John only nodded. "So, since I can't drink with you, how about we pretend that we just emptied the bottle and played all the cat and mouse games you like and just talk about who Miss Lyle was to you."

John didn't speak, just took a long slug on his bottle.

"Okay… so maybe we find out why you stopped eating your dinner when you were pushing so hard for spaghetti since breakfast…"

"Sue Lyle was… I stopped moving around for a bit. I got myself a scare on a hunt and decided to stop hunting. I figured that hunting was going to get me and the boys killed. So, I found a town. I got a job. The boys were in school and Sue Lyle was Sam's teacher." John knocked back another slug. "I'd almost forgotten about her… until Sam brought her up."

"Sounds like she was more than just Sam's teacher."

"She… grew on me. She was nice and sweet and she looked out for Sam. He got to do all the things he wanted in her class because she took an interest. I'm a dad. Quickest way to get my attention is through my boys." He took a breath. "She got my attention, then she held it."

"There haven't been a lot of women in your life since Mary, have there?"

"Sue Lyle was the first… the last."

"Oh."

"I… didn't know what I was doing. She seemed normal enough. She was giving us a normal life… encouragement for a better life. Dean hated her from the get go and probably initially because she held our attention. Dean hated that school and the kids and everyone else… He saw something in her that I didn't. He tried to tell me and in retrospect… if I had believed him that first night, I never would have slept with her." John took a long, long pull on the bottle. "I ignored a lot. She… enraptured me. She made good spaghetti. She was beautiful and kind… and when she tried to kill… I made her pay with her life."

"John, I'm sorry."

"I can't believe I let myself forget her."

"John, quit blaming yourself."

"The boys pay for all my mistakes." Liz jerked the bottle out of his hand before he could take another drink. John held her eyes for a moment. "Dean's my best friend. He was at that point and I let him down." He took the bottle back but didn't lift it to his lips. "Dean blamed himself for that Shtriga that almost killed Sam. I… remember that night. Vividly."

Liz took his hand and placed it on her belly but didn't interrupt. "I had been out for awhile. Left Dean to watch Sam. I didn't want to scare him so I didn't tell him too much about the hunt. Left him with all the right ammo, just in case." He took a breath and sniffed the open bottle but didn't take another pull. "I was tired. I'd been dragging ass and the life wasn't getting any easier. I caught wind of the son of a bitch and I didn't lose it. It moved fast and I think that… made the boys a target. It wasn't the first night on the hunt but I couldn't tell you if it was the second or twelfth but I had been on it a while. When I followed it back to our motel… I couldn't move my feet. I was tired and I was scared because my boys were the only two children in the motel and I couldn't move." He swallowed down a lump in his throat. "I had some theories about why all my research was coming up empty on ways to kill it. I figured that it had to begin feeding before the consecrated iron rounds would work because they hadn't so far. That's when I could move because… I couldn't use my boys as bait."

"So, you burst in and saved the day?"

"I snuck in. Dean had his shot gun in his hand and he'd done what I had in the parking lot. He was frozen because that was his baby brother and the Shtriga was starting to feed but… he heard us or something because when I took the shot, it didn't faze him. He jumped out the window and I had to get the boys to safety before I could go after it. Safety was a couple hundred miles away…"

"John."

"After the Shtriga, a friend of mine had gotten mixed up with a town of Succubi… and so… I decided that hunting evil was getting my family nowhere… and that's when I met Sue Lyle." He shrugged as he took a pull on the bottle. "In retrospect, it fits with Dean's guilt over that damned thing. He thinks I don't trust him."

"Maybe he didn't but I think he has more faith in your trust now."

"Promise me that this kid won't hunt." John rubbed her belly. "He'll have a knack for it that'll be uncanny but promise me that he'll have options."

"I can guarantee you that it'll have plenty of options."

--

Sam set his bag down on the bed and turned to Dean, who jerked his head towards the door. Quietly, they walked down to the Impala. "Is Dad okay?"

"He's fine. This is what he does now." Dean shrugged.

"He admits to his wrongs?"

"Dad's been having a time of it, I told you." Dean bit out. "Look… for whatever reason, he trusts her. She's good for him. I never… I mean…"

"You never saw what he was doing to you because you thought you deserved it." Sam clarified their childhood for him. "Man, that wall was like paper. How does he sleep in that room?"

"I think that's the only reason he does sleep in that room. Don't tell Liz, ever, about that wall being paper."

"You knew?"

"Yeah, I knew. We'd been living in that motel since about six months after you took off. Our second fight, I could hear them talking about me when I was taking a shower. You could hear everything."

"So, why can't she know?"

"You know how many times we fucked on that landing while dad was in the room?"

"Jesus, Dean. She's the mother of your child. You can't go around saying things like that."

"I'm just saying. It's bad enough Dad walked in on us that one time. If she knew that Dad had been listening to us screw, she'll never talk to him again."

Sam made a face. "You think he was listening."

"There was no way that he wasn't."

Sam nodded and glanced up at the motel but couldn't see onto the landing from the parking lot. "You think Dad really never slept with any woman but Miss Lyle since Mom died?"

"No. He's gotten some tail in his time. Last year, he kept taking off and sometimes… you could smell her on him. I think they broke up or something cause he's been crabby and he's been here for like two weeks straight." Dean stared off into the night. "I think maybe… he fell a little harder for Miss Demontail than he thought… and now I'm sorry I made any jokes about it."

"Demontail?"

"Dude, her shadow… totally had horns, a tail and fucking wings."

"You're a moron. How did you ever land a girl like Liz?"

"His dad was hot and I felt sorry for him." Liz cleared her throat from behind them.

"Hey." Dean tugged her to him. "What did I say about calling the old man 'hot'?"

"That'd you spank me if I ever mentioned it again."

"Spanking? Really?" Sam gagged. "Okay. I'm gonna go and keep Dad company. You two… make me sick."

TBC


	22. Chapter 22

Part 22

John listened to Sam's investigation findings. It was eerily similar to what he had found all those years ago when he had investigated Mary's death. Then Sam had gone stiff and didn't say anything for a long time. "Dad… I think that I could have stopped it but…"

"How?" John looked up from his notebook where he'd been making and comparing notes.

"I had these dreams for weeks before it happened. I just figured that… I was… you know afraid that marrying her would drag her into our life and I tried to put it out of my mind… and then it happened… exactly the way I dreamed it."

"Dreams?"

"Nightmares. Visions. Whichever. It happened… and I'm afraid that it's going to happen again."

"Have you told your brother?"

"No… because he was in the last dream I had… which is why I answered the phone when you called."

"That right?"

"But I didn't actually expect him to be with someone and for that someone to be pregnant." Sam turned to look out the window. "When did that happen, by the way?"

"Been in and out of this town for two years… nearly the whole time… those two…"

"And you let him?"

"He's a grown man. He can make his own decisions."

"You didn't try to stop him?"

"Who says I didn't?" John cleared his throat, met his son's disbelieving eyes for a brief moment. "It didn't take."

"Wow. Dean stood up to you? I never saw that one coming."

"Who said it was Dean?"

"She stood up to you?" Sam turned and laughed. "Wow… no wonder Dean likes her."

"Be clear now. He loves her. Took him a while but now he's standing his ground." John managed a grin. "Liz once told me I was like one of those mama lions that lick their cubs to death."

"She knows her wildlife?"

"Well, she's not a bimbo. You're going to have to redefine the way you look at your brother. He's grown a lot since you've been gone."

"Oh?"

"Liz has been good for your brother. I caused them both a lot of grief… so don't give them any." John heard the tone of his voice and expected Sam to burst out but the kid only nodded. "Good." He cleared his throat. "So… this dream you had of Dean and Liz… when does it happen?"

"Sometime after the baby is born. We have some time but probably not enough."

"It'll have to be enough."

--

John stared at the woods but didn't dare go in. He'd promised Bobby… that future Bobby. Would staying away be enough to break the pattern? He was still sitting on the bench when the Chevelle pulled into the lot. It parked at the motel and it carried only one occupant. John knew his profile well. Knew who he was to Liz. Knew that he probably hadn't told her that he was coming. Rising, he walked slowly but purposefully to the lot. The man pulled out a cell phone and started glancing around as he dialed.

"Can I help you, bud?" John cleared his throat.

"No, I'm fine. Thanks." The younger man's eyes narrowed at him. He lifted the phone to his ear. "Liz, it's me. We need to talk… I'm in the parking lot." John waited but didn't say a word. He knew Liz was thinking about coming down but hadn't made up her mind yet. Finally the young man turned to face him. "Thanks, but I'm waiting for someone."

"She'll come down if she wants to." John crossed the lot to the little store. Liz was standing on the landing but unsure of climbing down. "Want me to tell him to take off?"

"No… I got it. I should probably tell him about this anyway." She rubbed her belly. She slowly stepped into the lot. John sat on the staircase to keep watch. A few minutes later, he felt a body sit a few steps behind him.

Liz kept her distance and talked softly. When they had caught up to the point where she was pregnant, the man's face had gone white. There were some heated words in soft tones. Sam cleared his throat. "Who is that guy? Dean's stalking the apartment like a caged lion."

"That would be her ex-husband." John barely managed to contain the shaking of his head on that statement.

"He come up often?"

"No, been about a year and a half since he was last up here. Upset her something terrible."

Sam let a thoughtful pause hang for a moment while he weighed the pros and cons of this past relationship interfering with his brother's life. "Is it gonna happen again?"

"No. She's got what she wants now. He's got nothing left to offer her."

"Really, what's that?"

"She's got a man to love and a child on the way that will make it to the light of day…"

"What?"

"She had three miscarriages while she was with him. It soured their marriage. Six months after she moved up here, she met Dean… they've been together ever since. I don't think she told him about Dean the last time he was here."

"No! I told you! I told you!" Liz shouted, shoving Max away. "If we ended it, it was for good. No going back!"

"Liz! I love you and I know you still love me."

"It's not enough!" She screamed and backed away, her arms twitching. "I told you that it wasn't enough and you said you understood. I told you that I couldn't do it again and I was telling the truth."

"But you can have a baby with a man you hardly know?"

"Hardly know? At least HE'S never been afraid to love me, Max. For once, I have all of a man and not just the parts he wants to show me."

"Well, that's a sword that goes both ways, now isn't it."

"How was I supposed to trust you? Huh?" Liz ran her hands through her hair. "You can't do this to me. You can't just… show up and expect that I'm going to be here for you. In love with you… it's been nearly 3 years, Max. I've moved on. I've carved out a life for myself. I'm starting my own family."

"Do they know about you?" He eyed her carefully.

"They know enough to respect what I can't tell them." She lied.

"Which one is he?"

"At the top of the stairs."

"I need to talk to you." Max started toward the staircase. John glanced back to find Dean leaning on the railing. "Now."

"No!" She tugged on his arm to make him face her. "You don't get to do this. I don't need your permission. We stopped playing that game when Isabel died!"

"Don't you say her name." Max growled.

"Don't threaten my family." She shoved him and sparks flew between her hands and his stumbling body.

Max gasped as the pain shot through his body. "Liz… what?"

"Don't threaten them." She repeated, tears in her eyes. She looked up when a thud sounded in front of her. "Jesus, Dean! Are you crazy?"

John and Sam blinked when they realized that Dean had just leapt from the top of the staircase to the ground. Dean nudged her toward the stairwell. "Go calm down. Max and I are going to have a conversation."

Looking over her shoulder, Liz stumbled to sit between John's legs. He anchored her with hands on her shoulders. "What's going to happen? Some macho fight?"

"Sometimes there are conversations that need to happen between two men regarding a lady in common." John reassured her.

"Yeah, like what?"

"Like the time that Mary's uncle sat me down to discuss how important she was to him because she was the only family he had left aside from a few distant cousins. I was instructed that I was to do everything in my power to see that she had the kind of life she had always wanted."

"I didn't know she had an uncle." Sam interrupted.

"He died when you were a baby."

"When?"

"A few months after your mother did." John hated to remember that old man but he was one of the few reasons that John had started down this path in his life.

"Why don't you talk about her to your boys, John?" Liz jabbed a finger into his knee. "It's painful but they only have what you remember and… you're not going to be around forever."

"Careful, you're approaching Earth logic." Sam warned half-heartedly.

"Mary was my life. I did everything for her. She was… a light at the end of the tunnel after Vietnam. Losing her cost me more than I'll ever know." John admitted. "How do you lose your life and keep living?"

"What about your kids?" Sam demanded.

"Probably was the only reason I ever came home alive from any hunt, Sam." He took a long shaky breath. "I love you boys but Mary was my world. The world I see without her is filled with monsters and demons and credit card fraud and watching how I destroyed my sons without even trying."

"John." Liz turned to face him. "What did she do that would piss you off?"

He laughed suddenly. "God, she used to steal my socks to dust with and then throw them away. She always slathered mayo on my BLT even though I always told her that I preferred mustard. Every single time that we fought, she always brought up that I looked at other ladies a half a second too long and that would start a whole other fight."

"Bet the makeup sex was wild." Liz laughed. Sam gagged.

"You would know about that, wouldn't you."

"What?" Liz blinked at him.

"Like you don't pick fights with Dean."

She turned away to hide her grin. "Well, he is an aggravating man."

"And leaves himself wide open for ridicule."

"On occasion." She flicked his knee. "Wonder where he gets that trait from."

"Are you saying I'm open for mockery?"

"Well, I might mock you openly if I didn't feel Colonel Marine Badass would beat me down."

"I would never hit a woman."

"You hit plenty of women." Sam muttered.

"Those were evil women." John justified.

"Of course, they were evil. If they did something to deserve a smack down by Mr. John Winchester, they had to be evil. A gentleman only hits a woman if she's planning evil world domination." Liz teased.

"Which is different than good world domination?" Sam countered.

"Well, of course. If a hot woman decides she's going to dominate the world with sunshine and rainbows, John Winchester lays his jacket over the puddle in her way. If it's for killing puppies and murdering virgins, John Winchester shoves her down and drowns her in the puddle."

"Alright, enough, kids." John tugged her back against him, then reached back and thumped Sam on the chest.

"You know, I heard Superman… wears Batman underoos." Sam leaned back and away from his father's reach. It was a joke he and Dean had shared and made in the few good moments they'd had after Sam had been let in on the family secret. It was a test of sorts for the newest member of the family.

"Oh, yeah?" Liz rose to stand over the two of them. "I heard Batman wears John Winchester underoos."

"Don't be stupid. Batman wears Dean Winchester underoos." Dean cut in.

"And we all know." Sam started, then Liz joined in. "That Dean Winchester doesn't wear underoos."

"You go commando one time."

"You did it, in Oklahoma, after running through the bushes after deflowering the sheriff's daughter, which I had expressly told you not to do." John thumped him on the forehead. "Then got caught on camera by a news crew investigating prowlers two seconds after tripping over your own shoes… Johnson waving in the air for the world to see."

"He's the pride and joy of the family, you know." Sam addressed Liz. "You picked a winner."

"So… did you kill him?" Liz reached over the railing to grip Dean by the shirt.

"Nah…" he ran his hands through her hair. "We had a talk, man to man, and we came to an understanding. He'll wait for you to call him no matter how long it takes."

"I can still kill him though, right?" John cleared his throat. "For… checking out your ass when you're clearly off the market."

"Down, Papa." Liz tapped her finger against his nose.

"So… how's about a road trip? I'm thinking Vegas." Dean looked to his father and brother, who nodded their assent.

"No. I don't do Vegas." Liz shook her head.

"Lake Tahoe?"

"Maybe."

John blinked rapidly to wrap his head around the idea. His son had just half-assed a marriage proposal. His son. He was very close to being ashamed except that Liz was in step with him… and this event had never happened in the future that he was used to visiting.

"Only if we can fly."

Dean froze. Sam raised an eyebrow. John leaned back and waited for Dean to unfreeze. Sam broke the silence. "You'd have to be without Dad's car for a while but I'm sure that you'd survive the separation."

Dean's eyes shot to his dad. John cleared his throat. "Atlantic City's not far. Family road trip."

"Atlantic City, huh." Liz stared at him. "What's wrong with Tahoe?"

"Pretentious. Security would probably be tight." Dean stammered over the words but got them out.

"Is this about flying?"

"No… maybe."

"You're afraid to fly?" Sam blurted out.

"Hey, don't make fun of your brother." John bit out. "He doesn't like to fly. He doesn't have to."

Sam stared at his father. Liz caught the look. She slid her hand around the base of Dean's neck. Squeezing gently, she exchanged a look with John. "Well, it's not like I can get through security anyway. Being wanted by the FBI does have its pitfalls."

"Wait, wait. I thought Dean had fallen for a good girl but now you're telling me that you're in the FBI's databank?" Sam slid forward to look his brother's girlfriend in the eye.

"What? A girl can't have a record?"

"With these two for parents, that boy is gonna be more slippery than an eel with the cops." John pointed.

"Again with the boy talk, John." Liz nudged his knee with her foot. She leaned against the railing to allow Dean to wrap his arms around her. "Why are you so sure that it's a boy?"

"Just a feeling."

"What's gonna happen if it's a girl?" She covered Dean's hand on her stomach. "A boy would be lovely… to continue on the Winchester line and all… but really… I'm thinking a girl would help balance things out."

"What's your mother's name?" John cleared his throat.

"Nancy."

"Have you talked to her?"

"Not in years." She shook her head. "Part of the deal when you're on the run is that you don't contact your known affiliates. I'm sure you already know that."

John let it go at that. He leaned back and listened to the familiar banter of Sam and Dean laced with the laughter of Liz's very great amusement. When Sam and Dean started one of their very physical bouts of brotherly love which usually involved one or the other's face planted in the asphalt and the other's knee in his back. John slipped away to the pay phone.

"Padre?"

"John… I haven't heard from you in a long time. How have you been?"

"More or less okay."

"Well, there's a more honest answer than I was expecting." Jim let out a breath. "How is Dean?"

"Good, he's good. Sammy's with us, too."

"So, you found out about his fiancé."

"I had to drag it out of him."

"So, you called him and not the other way around. Maybe you're doing better than you thought, John. I'm glad to hear it. I know you don't hold for it but I've been praying for you."

"Well, maybe it's working. Praying extra hard for Dean?"

"Always. Sam prays, you're pissed at God and Dean just doesn't believe anything that he can't touch."

"Well, let me rest your soul at ease. Dean is very happy. The happiest that he's been since…"

"Do tell, John. Don't keep me in suspense."

"Dean's fallen in love."

"Again?"

"For real this time."

"Is she… a nice girl?"

"Yes, Jim. She's a nice girl. Patient. Kind. Puts up with me. Threatened to kill me more than once. She's getting along with Sam… They're gonna have a baby and they're talking about driving down to Atlantic City to tie the knot."

"Absolutely not."

"What?"

"Bring them here, John. I will marry them. I'll even wait to process the paperwork until you're all long gone."

"Jim…"

"Bring your family here, John. Please."

"Jim?"

"Don't go to Atlantic City to get something so impersonal for your son's wedding."

"I'll talk to them."

--

Sam ran his hands over the shelf. "wow… Wow."

"Your brother is quite the handyman." Liz smiled proudly at Sam. She liked to brag on Dean to absolutely everyone that she felt underestimated him. "You should see the crib he made."

"He already made a crib?"

"He's very excited." She bit her lip and let her eyes dart off to the kitchen where John was staring out the window, drinking. "Your dad is, too."

"Well, it's clear that you've impressed them both. Dad doesn't really put up with women and certainly not the kind that Dean usually brings around… but you're not like any of those girls."

"Well, thank God for that." Liz caught Sam's uncomfortable look. "I'm quite aware of the type Dean used to go for."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you are so not what I would expect would settle Dean down. I mean… I think you're great but… I also know my brother."

"I… Uh… kind of stumbled into this town by accident." Liz settled onto the couch. "Far as I can tell, the whole town is either born here or broken down here."

"Yeah, I can see that." He laughed at her wry smile.

"It's a nice place. Good as any. I… ran long and hard after I signed my divorce papers. Spent a few nights in random towns, got drunk here and there. Hooked up with all manner of bad sorts. Kind of lived the opposite of my life to date… Then… I ended up here, broke and sick of life. I stopped in at the café for a cup of coffee to get warm. During the first week of cold snap, it gets busy in there. Travelers pull off and all that. They were pretty deep in the weeds, so I offered to pitch in. They were desperate and… well, I've been waitressing since I was 12 so… I got a room, kept showing up to work… and then I realized I'd been here about six months and I didn't mind it too badly. I mean… It's smaller than the town I grew up in… scattered as it is." She shrugged.

"It's pretty tucked away. Nothing bad ever happens here."

"Right, so I stayed… I was… sort of climbing the walls when John and Dean stumbled in one morning, same as me. Looking for coffee and hot food. John and I sort of had a crash-collision sort of meeting." She blushed. "Then Dean flirted up a storm and I was very close to taking a break in the back room just to… take the edge off when… John came up and apologized to me for our awkward meeting and begged me not to sleep with Dean. Something along the lines of it serving him right. Dean was being a little obnoxious so I played along."

Sam smiled broadly. It was easy to forget the good bits between the bad bites of life with his family. At least someone else had seen the good bits and remembered his family for it. That was far more rare than gracious survivors after a hunt. "I'll bet it did him a world of good. He's used to getting what he wants pretty quickly."

"Anyway, it took Dean all of a day to catch on to the fact that I was in league with his father and that I was actually interested. He got what he wanted pretty quickly after that. I don't know… I… uh… recognized something in him. Pain, I later found out. He was… really not himself. I know this now. Not at that time, of course." Liz watched Sam's thoughtful face. "Dean loves his family. Any little perceived slight sends him into warrior mode and that is one of the things I love about him… and having met and tolerated your father, I see where he gets it."

"I used to think that he didn't really give a damn about us." He didn't meet her eyes so it was her tone that made him look up.

"Then all of you Winchesters are in each other's blinders. It was the first thing I noticed about John. The way he watches Dean when he's out of arm's reach. The way he talks about his wife and you when he finally let himself say your name." She took a deep breath. "I sort of pride myself in being a good judge of character. I don't agree with the ways that your father has handled himself in the past, with me, but I understand it. The two of you are all that he's got and he'll go to hell before he'll lose either one of you. Your safety is what he lives for."

"Wow. Dad made a good impression on someone for once."

"Oh, we've had our moments. I've threatened to kill him a couple of times already. He's a stubborn man and I've about had my fill of stubborn men for one lifetime. We understand each other."

"Oh? What is it that you and my dad understand about each other?"

"We'd both kill for Dean."

TBC


	23. Chapter 23

Part 23

John gripped the sink. His brain pounded inside his skull. He could feel it coming. An invasion into his waking hours. It happened so much faster than the last time.

Liz stared up at him, a sly smile on her face. "You trying to tell me something, John?"

"Just… look out. There are dangerous things out there… besides demons. Men can be evil all on their own."

"You do know that I have children, right?"

"Obviously. What's your point?"

"That I'm not a virgin. I do know about the evil ways of men and their libidos."

John set his jaw and turned away, glaring at the jerk who had been leering at Liz all night over his cup of coffee. "Just be careful."

"I'm always careful." She touched his arm to turn him again. "John, I've been waiting tables since I was 12. I know a thing or two about handling myself with lonely men and over amorous customers."

John turned and sank back into his seat near the back entrance to the kitchen. He sipped his coffee and picked at his pie. He watched the jerk while Liz refreshed his coffee. She smiled politely then returned to the kitchen to pick up an order.

"So, saw your bulldog in full force." A voice drifted to John's ears.

"He's just overprotective." Liz laughed.

"Right… more like jealous."

"Shut up."

"I call 'em like I see 'em." There was a pause. "He's your father-in-law."

"Dean and I were never married."

"Same difference."

"John's a good man. The kids and I are all he's got left. I'll take care of him."

"You know that's not what I'm talking about. I've seen the way you look at him."

"Do me a favor, Eileen. Mind your own business."

"Liz."

"I'm not the one sleeping with a married man."

John coughed as he splashed water on his face. He blinked until he couldn't see the diner anymore. Until all he saw was his soaked reflection in the motel room mirror. His face was a dark red, almost purple.

"Dad?" Sam's voice boomed into the room. Sam raced over and helped his father to sit on the bed. "You okay? What happened?"

"Nothing. It's nothing." John whispered even as he blacked out.

--

"Baby's asleep." John whispered from where he leaned in the doorway.

"Thanks, John." Liz whispered back from where she was laying Jack's head against the pillows.

"I guess pre-school was too much for him, huh?" John chuckled as Liz covered the boy up.

"Just a little." Liz kissed his forehead and followed John out to the kitchen where she poured them each a drink. "What did you do all day?"

"Well, we woke up. Deanna had some milk, some bananas. Then we had our baths because Deanna likes to wear her bananas." John smiled at Liz's laugh. "Then we had ourselves a little nap and then it was time to jump on the bed for Olympic training."

"She is a tumbler." She reached over to pour him another drink. She didn't even flinch when he brushed her hair back behind her ear. He flinched when she leaned into his hand. He didn't step back. Didn't flinch when their hands touched over his glass. "John…"

"Liz…"

--

John's eyes snapped open. Sam loomed overhead, a voice sounded from the other side of the room. "John?" Liz's face appeared. "I'm right here." John moved instinctively, away from her. "John?"

Sam shot Dean a look. "He was talking to himself when I walked in… and he was… He passed out and almost the minute I got him on the bed, he started talking in his sleep."

"Just like at Bobby's." Liz turned to face them.

"Yeah." Dean moved around to the other side of the bed. "Dad. You okay? Dizzy?"

"Yeah. Little bit." John admitted.

"Maybe we ought to stay put." Dean looked to Liz. "Pastor Jim will still be there later."

"Yeah, sure." She nodded.

"No." John sat up and his world spun. "No… we'll still go to see Jim."

"Not until you aren't in danger of stroking out on us." Dean shook his head.

"This is what it wants. We have to go to Minnesota."

--

Dean paced his kitchen. Liz and Sam watched him. "Something has Dad running scared."

"Are you sure?" Sam cleared his throat.

"This has been going on a while. Something is happening. He takes off for weeks at a time. He hasn't budged in a while. He's been hiding out here."

"I don't know, Dean… I think… it's been getting worse." Liz chimed in.

"You think?"

"He's done this before. At Bobby's… after his surgery." She rose to her feet. "He knows what's going on… well, more than we do. He's not talking and he's got a plan that we know nothing about."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look and laughed. She cocked an eyebrow at them. Sam fought a smile. "Well, with Dad… that part is always a given."

"So, what are we going to do?"

"He's panicking." Dean mulled it over. "There's something he knows and he seems to think that getting us hitched is key to his plan."

"Okay. I hear that but… I don't understand it." Sam shook his head and got to his feet. "The two of you getting married isn't exactly… you know… scale balancing event or anything."

"I… um… have a question for the two of you." Liz wrung her fingers and paced the length of the kitchen. "Do you think it's possible that your dad is like… psychic or something?"

"No."

"It's just that… um… the last couple of years… the hunts that he's picked and the tales of how the hunts went down and then some of the things that he knows about me… there's… not been a lot of… evidence for how he came across the knowledge." Liz met Dean's eyes. "I never came out and told him about me and I've seen his journal and the way he does a hunt and most of the hunts he's done since… well, it's different, right?"

"Yeah, I hear you." Dean agreed. "He's not pouring over the newspapers the way he used to. You remember? The early morning run to the newsstand. The seven dozen papers he'd get and skim through every day?" Sam nodded that he did remember. "He'll be gone for a week or two, then come back with notes in his journal and that's it. We'd hit the road and he'd… anticipate on a level that is downright… Like a little while ago… we were hunting this Rawhead. Usually he does the research and the stakeouts and sometimes more kids go missing. He pretty much pulled in, listened to the scanner, and then we walked one neighborhood. Just one, found the kids, had two tazers a piece, just in case, and the whole thing was over in a day and a half. Dad's efficient, sure but…"

"Yeah, I hear what you're saying but Dad? Psychic?" Sam groaned. "I don't think so."

"Maybe he's been sleeping with a psychic. Getting his details from his lady Friday."

"Dad?" Sam snorted. "No, something else is going on but… I don't know what."

"Tell him, Dean." Liz put her hand on his shoulder.

"Tell me what?"

"A while back… when Dad had his last surgery… he was pretty out of it and one day he's talking to Liz about me like I'm dead. This was before the Rawhead, before we went to check up on you… Sam… when I found out what happened to your girlfriend… he wasn't all that surprised. He was… sad, you know but not surprised."

"How did he find out about that?"

"I don't know. I only found out when he called you… He told you that a friend told him but… right now… I think Pastor Jim is the only person still talking to him."

"I didn't tell anyone but Pastor Jim." Sam cleared his throat. "He said that he hadn't talked to Dad in over a year. Think he called Dad?"

"No. You know how Dad feels about Pastor Jim… imposing."

"Even if Pastor Jim told John… it doesn't explain how he knew about me." Liz cut in. "He doesn't know anyone I know. No one I know has ever met him before the other day."

"Liz…" Dean wrapped his arms around her, to pull her close.

Sam tilted his head at them and waited but they just exchanged meaningful looks. "Like what?"

"Well, once, Dad and I were talking women and I mentioned something about… and mind you, this was last year before…" He pointed to Liz's belly. "I mean, it wasn't even something that we were discussing… We were just talking and Dad starts talking about how you treat a woman who has experienced loss. So, this is something that I knew about Liz and not something I ever talked about with Dad. I talked to Bobby about it but Bobby keeps his mouth shut when I talk."

"You've never told Dad that Liz had three miscarriages." It wasn't a question, just looking for affirmation.

"No… how did you know?" Liz blinked at Sam. That was extremely personal and Liz could count on one hand how many people knew about that… and John wasn't one of them.

"Because he told me… the other day when your ex was here."

"God, how did he know that?" Liz took a breath. "I'm just concerned about him."

"Maybe he is." Sam whispered. "I… I've been seeing things… in my dreams… that have been coming true."

"What?" Dean blinked at his brother. "So, what? I'm surrounded by psychics now?"

"Wait, what?" Sam blinked.

--

Dean turned down the radio and groaned. "This car was not meant for four people."

"It's a four-door. These days, it's considered a sedan." Sam offered.

"Bite your tongue." Dean reached over and whacked him.

"It's fine." Liz winced as she adjusted her posture.

"Come 'ere." John turned his body so that he could stretch his leg out, then bent and lifted her legs over his. "Better?"

"Yes, thanks." She adjusted her pillow beneath her back.

"Sam, get my tapes." Dean glanced around.

"They're back here." John reached down and hauled up the box. He rifled through and tossed a cassette up front.

"I can't believe you'd torture your future bride with the mullet rock from that box." Sam groaned as he picked up the tape and looked it over. "In Through the Out Door? Dad? Come on. This album is now torture."

"Just play it, Sam." Liz grinned at John, who wore a wistful expression on his face.

"In Through the Out Door is tradition." Dean snatched the tape from his brother's fingers and shoved it into the player.

"Tradition. Right. Like hunting. Like salting doors. Like sigils on windows… oh wait, those are all useful."

"It's a tradition we're passing on." Liz ran her hands over her stomach.

"Okay… just to clear this up. In Through the Out Door is the most played album this vehicle has ever seen. It's not tradition, it's tedium." Sam turned in his seat and then took in the expressions in the backseat. "What? What am I missing?"

"This tradition hits you a little young, Sammy. I don't expect you to understand it but I would appreciate it if you would respect it." John tapped Liz's leg to emphasize himself to his youngest son.

Sam nodded to his father. "How young?"

"A year or so." Liz answered for him.

"We've been listening to this tape that long?" Dean turned slightly so he could see someone in the backseat.

"You've been listening to this album since you were born, Dean." John reassured him. "Probably the first song you ever heard in this world was Zeppelin."

"Awesome." Dean nodded and grinned. "Which song?"

"Tell him." Liz nudged John.

"Hey, hey. How does the newcomer know the family history and we don't?" Dean frowned.

"Well, the newcomer knows how to shut up and listen from time to time." John reached up and flicked the back of Dean's head. "All My Love."

"Seriously?" Dean frowned. "But that's on the B-side."

"What can I say? Your mom really liked that song."

"Mom?" Sam whispered.

"She was a complicated lady with complicated taste in music. Hated Zeppelin but she loved that song."

"She used to sing it to me." Dean breathed out. "She… had a pretty voice…"

"Yeah, she did."

"Hate to tell you guys this," she cleared her throat to cut in, "I'll hum the song to the baby but I can't carry a tune."

"Dean'll sing it." Sam told her. "He sings that freakin' song all the time. Least now I know why."

"You want to tell them, Dean?" Liz bit her lip.

Dean grinned and cleared his throat. "So, uh… Liz went and got one of those ultrasound things… We're having a girl."

John froze. "You're sure?"

"Yep." Liz grinned. "So, your strong feeling was a little off, there, Grandpa."

"So… with everyone's permission…" Dean led and took a deep breath. "We want to name her after Mom."

Sam nodded his assent. Liz looked to John who was frowning. "John?"

"Yeah." He nodded, his voice thick. "You're sure it's a girl?"

"Yeah, we asked a couple of times." She offered a smile. "Because you were so insistent on it being a boy."

"When's your due date?"

"Fall."

The birthday was all wrong and it was just clicking. There was more off than just that. John should have known better. There was something really wrong with that wood. He had known it and ignored it. He had to stay far, far away from that wood.

"Well?" Liz nudged his knee. "John?"

"Yeah, yeah. It's fine by me."

"You okay, John?"

"Fine. Little carsick. Never much liked riding in the backseat."

"You did it for months when your leg was in the brace." Dean frowned into the rearview mirror.

"I also had prescription grade painkillers for company."

--

John drove with Sam by his side. Dean and Liz asleep in the backseat. Sam cleared his throat. "Hey Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"The three of us were talking… comparing notes and those two seem to think that you might be psychic."

John frowned to himself. "Really?"

"Yeah… so… I'm just wondering if what's happening to me is… genetic."

"I'm not psychic, Sam." John cursed under his breath. "I don't really know what's going on."

"But you know that Dean has to marry Liz."

"They should get married."

"You're pretty insistent on it."

"I want the best for my boys, Sam. If I thought that this was passing or that it would fall apart, I wouldn't care but Dean loves Liz and he needs all the normal that he can get."

"Yeah, cause partly-alien pregnant girlfriends are normal."

"Yeah, well. He is Dean."

"Yeah, that he is." Sam pondered his next words as he checked the backseat to make sure they were still sleeping. "Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"They said you've been seeing someone."

"Not exactly."

"It's good. That you are, though."

"I'm not."

"Dad…"

"I'm not." John itched for the drive in silence. Itched for the feel of skin against his. Clearing his throat, he cast his son a glance. "I've got my… hang ups but there's not a woman who can really hold my interest for very long."

"It would be okay if you did… find a woman to hold your interest. I…" Sam's throat went dry for a moment. "I think I know how you felt about Mom. It's been a long time since she died and maybe it's not a bad thing if you can move on. I know that hunting the demon is going to be the last thing you do but maybe… maybe having something like that again would… anchor you."

"Maybe."

"My point is… we've had our disagreements and we'll probably never see eye to eye on them… but I don't want anything to happen to you." Sam made himself not flinch when his father laid his hand on his shoulder. "Dad?"

"I hear you, Sammy. I'm trying."

"Since you're hearing so well, these days. Think you could call me Sam, now?"

"Nope." John gave his son a smile. "I didn't hear that."

--

John's head swam. He greeted his old friend amiably enough. Watched Dean introduce Liz in a proper manner… more proper than the way he'd introduced her to Bobby. Sam and Jim went for a long walk after dinner. Dean and Liz took a tour of the church… and John's head swam. The pull was strong. As if the wood were just outside Blue Earth instead of several states away. A sleepless night had John barely able to stand while everyone moved around getting ready. He shut his eyes for a second as he leaned on a wall but it was too late to fight it off.

John stared through the glass. A doctor glanced his way. "Is there someone you're here to see?"

"My grandson."

"Oh?"

"My first born's first born."

"He's handsome." She winked at him.

"Should be. His old man is quite the lady's man." He cleared his throat. "His mom's a looker, too."

"Come on in, Grandpa. Hold him."

"Dad!" Sam's voice brought John out of the false memory. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." John tried to stand upright but his knee buckled, Sam caught him and guided him to a chair. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine. Something is going on with you."

"I got a funny feeling, Sam." John admitted. Jim and Dean were talking as Jim adjusted Dean's tie in the kitchen. "I can't explain it but I need you to do something for me."

"Yeah, Dad. Anything."

"No matter what happens today, Dean and Liz get married."

"Dad?"

"No matter what happens to me, they finish their vows."

"Yeah. Sure, Dad."

--

John's hands shook as he stepped inside the church. That small action seemed to increase his vertigo. Whatever he had got himself into, it was big. Jim was busy arranging his book on the stand and instructing the boys on where to stand. He could feel sweat breaking out on his brow. He offered Liz a tight smile when she entered, smoothing her dress over her expanding middle. He took her hand and guided her down the aisle to Dean, who wore a smirk on his face, not a bit nervous. As Jim began to speak, John felt his face flush and he fought to keep his focus on the words.

Sam watched his father stumble to the nearest pew and did his best not to call attention to it until after the rings were passed and the kisses exchanged. Then he rushed over and watched his father's face turn purple. "Dad. Dad. Breathe."

"Dad?"

"John?"

The voices came from all around but John's vision had gone black. Nothing in sight. Then he was met with oblivion.

TBC


	24. Chapter 24

Part 24

Liz brushed John's hair out of his face and blotted his face down with a wet cloth. Dean brushed up a thick foam and applied it to his father's face and neck. Sam watched as Dean carefully shaved his father's face with a straight razor. He'd been unconscious for a week. Pastor Jim held his nightly vigil. Nobody knew what was going on and the word was spread for anyone who could dig up anything.

"Some honeymoon." Dean offered Liz a lame smile.

"He'll wake up." Liz reassured him. "He will. He's John Winchester."

"He's not really a superhero, you know." He spoke evenly as he continued to shave his father's face. "He was a good hunter but even Dad has his moments of doubt."

"Dad? Right." Sam muttered. Angrier than he had ever been at his father. Whatever he'd been hiding was dangerous and he hadn't given nearly enough warning for this.

"He does." Dean repeated. "He never says so but he does." He took a deep breath as he wiped up the remainder of the foam. "I think it's been happening more and more."

"I thought you said the hunts have been more efficient."

"Dean's been doing the hunting parts." Liz revealed.

"What?" Sam stepped further into the room to hear better.

"With Dad's leg and all the other… I was the one doing the hunting. Dad did the planning." Casting a glance at his brother to remind him of the conversation they'd had before leaving the Catskills.

Liz took John's vitals for the day. Heart beat was steady, which was better than it had been at first. The first day had been frightening. Liz had wanted to intervene but Dean had forbid it. They had no idea what had hold of John and it might decide it liked the taste of Liz and the baby instead.

--

Jim listened intently for the fiftieth run-through of the facts. He had something in the dusty corners of his brain but he couldn't place it. He and Sam ransacked his library. Books littered the study.

Dean took a breath. "Dad was… exhausted. We'd done two hunts back to back. He'd gotten the tar beat out of him on the first one but I didn't know that until he tripped over his own boots and landed in the hospital."

"More detail, Dean." Sam prompted.

"Like what?"

"What did he do that day?"

"Nothing. I mean… he'd gone for a walk in the woods and got lost the night before. Liz and I were up all night looking for him… what?" Dean stopped at all the looks he was getting.

"The woods, Dean." Liz slapped his arm. "Every single time he ends up babbling nonsense, he always talks about the woods."

"He… mentioned something about the woods to me." A shadow in the doorway spoke up.

"Bobby?" Dean snapped his head around.

"There's a lot more going on with that old boy than any of you know."

--

Sam took his turn by his father's side. No more fever. That was good. Dean crossed his arms in the doorway. "You don't have to do that."

"It's my turn." Sam dropped the damp rag on the nightstand and studied his father, who looked so much older than he remembered, even in his sleep. "You and Liz have done more than your share over the last couple of years." He took a breath. "I can see why you've been so upset with me."

"It had nothing to do with Dad being sick or whatever the hell is going on with him."

"Then what?"

"I've told you." Dean ran his hands through his hair. "I know that you and the old man have never seen eye to eye but we're a family. You left and you didn't look back."

"All I ever did was look back." Sam confessed. "Always looking over my shoulder and into the shadows and wondering how long I was going to keep… and then it all went away… just like that."

"Sammy…"

"My name is Sam and that first time you called… was just bad timing. I'd been doing okay and I'd been at a party and I couldn't find the right way to lie about why I never went home and so I holed up in my room with my books… pissed off at myself and at Dad and you were drunk and in a good mood and that pissed me off…"

"I'd been in a fight with Liz that day." Dean revealed. "About you, actually."

"I met Jess the next day and… Dean… I wanted to call but Dad told me-"

"Dad was bluffing." Dean bit out. "Dad… went off the deep end when he realized that you weren't coming back. The next six months were hell, Sam. Hell. I mean it. He just… and I was trying to keep him steady and I couldn't do it on my own. If we hadn't met Liz when we did…" He shrugged and leaned on the door frame. "I didn't call you again because I was pissed. I bought your damn ticket and put you on the bus and I was trying to be happy for you and this is what it got me." His voice cracked, so he had to clear out the lump to keep going. He'd come this far, he had to finish it. "Dad was so turned around that he didn't know which way was up, hunting like a possessed thing and believe me; I tested him and tested him. He was just… I can only imagine how much like this he must have been right after Mom died. So… do me one favor."

"What's that?"

"Don't ever… ever let me hear you say that Dad didn't love us or that he didn't care what happened to us. Okay?"

"Okay." Sam nodded. He set his gaze on his father so that he wouldn't embarrass Dean when Dean wiped the moisture from his eyes. "Dean… that night you bitched me out… The night that Dad answered your phone… I know that he didn't know it was me but… what do you think he would have said if he had?"

"I don't know. You were a non-subject for anyone that wasn't Liz." Dean scratched the back of his head. "He told her a lot that he'll never tell us… even with this new open attitude that he's got. The look on his face though… when he realized that it was you…"

"That why you laid into me the way you did?"

"Maybe… I was a little pissed at him myself, though. I didn't want to go on the hunt. Werewolves are starting to skeeve me out, man. I was on edge already and then I came out of the shower and Dad was…"

"My first semester sucked." Sam admitted. "All my classes were boring. I thought half my professors were demons and I kept trying to prove they were. It didn't make me popular. My first roommate thought I was a loon. I didn't exactly dissuade him from the idea the night I spooked myself to hell and salted the windows and the doors." He looked to his big brother, who was starting to sport something that might be a grin. "It wasn't until I met Jess that I started to figure out how normal people approached irritating situations."

"She was hot. Smart too if she figured Winchester was her favorite flavor."

"You saw her?"

"When we went to check on you, you were talking with a bunch of people and she was hanging all over you." Dean offered Sam a wan smile. "We sat in that damn car, roasting in the California sun for almost an hour and he hardly said a word, just watched you… laughing and talking and holding on to your girl." He took a long slow breath. "He was coming and going pretty regularly in those days. A week with us, a week on the road with a hunt and then gone for a month at a time."

"Hey, Dean…" Sam turned to face his brother. "I was talking to Dad about some stuff and… he was pretty adamant that he wasn't seeing anyone."

"Well, maybe he wasn't dating but… he was getting some pretty regular."

"No, he was pretty… He flat out denied it to me."

"Well, he let us believe it. He was in some pretty good moods and you know he rarely puts up with that kind of trash talk from me or anyone else."

"Boys…" Bobby interrupted. "I need a word."

--

Bobby cleared his throat. He nodded to Jim. "I've been… worried about John for some time and I've put him to every test I know. He's not possessed but… there's something he said to me that I brushed off because the rest of what he said was clearly nuts but now… I'm having to reevaluate everything we talked about in our last conversation."

"Okay… but why isn't Dean in on this?" Sam protested.

"Because of what John was suggesting when he was mouthing off." Bobby cleared his throat. "Mind you, I got the highlights in a way only your Dad can do. He says that he's living in the future. In this future… he's doing research so he can come back and kill the thing that keeps killing Dean."

"Yeah. Okay. I'm tracking." Sam nodded.

"Says… in order to do his research, he has to fit in… and to fit in, he's got this woman."

"Okay…"

"Says he fell into it, too easy, like he had no choice. Like he was under a spell."

"Dad did?"

"Yeah… So… the woman that he's got in this future that he goes to…" Bobby jerked his head to the door behind him.

"No." Sam shook his head. "Really?"

"He told me this story after I called him on the way he was staring at your brother's girl."

"Wife."

"Wife." Bobby acknowledged the correction.

"You're saying he was what… leering at her?"

"No… Men leer at women they want and can't have. He was watching like a man who had had that and wanted it back." He met the pastor's eyes. "Thing was… even while he was talking, I could tell that he knew he was saying something pathetic. Reaching, I guess but I was just… tired of trying to figure out what was wrong with him."

"He say anything that struck you as really odd?" Sam pressed.

"Said Liz was an alien."

"Who did?" Dean spoke up from the doorway. No one was sure how much he'd heard but from the look of him, it wasn't much.

"Your Daddy, talking shit and pissing me off."

"So, he goes around talking about secrets he shouldn't be spilling." Dean's face flushed red, his voice deep and booming.

"What?" Bobby blinked at Dean.

"Yeah. Fine. I spilled the beans but Dad shouldn't have been talking shit about her."

"Dean, Dad told Bobby that he'd been visiting the future." Sam broke it to his brother slowly. "That he was researching hunts…"

"Visiting the future? Like seeing visions?"

"The way the pieces fit together. He thought he was going someplace real, in the future and finding this stuff out so he could come back and hunt it clear out." Sammy led his brother on. "Told Bobby he was doing it because when he went to the future… you weren't there."

"I wasn't there?"

"Liz was there but you weren't."

"So…" Dean stilled. "I was dead."

"Whatever did this to Dad, used his… used your death to keep him going back and…" Sam looked to Bobby. "What, to feed on him?"

"Possibly. This has been going on a while… I have no idea how long."

"Two and a half years." Dean whispered and sank into a chair. "He… went for a walk… and he got lost and… when he fell… He was going on about the woods and President Jenna Bush… and I just thought he was… Thought he banged his head too hard."

"Woods." Bobby looked from Winchester to Winchester. "What did he say about the woods?"

"He didn't. He always went for walks and he would stay gone for weeks at a time… Once, he was gone two months." Dean frowned. "We didn't hunt anything when he came back…"

Pastor Jim frowned and cursed at John. Bobby just hung his head. Sam sighed heavily. "Maybe the time table was wrong."

"I don't know about you but I know that's not what happened." Bobby gave Sam a look. "Whatever it is, it's got him turned around enough that he didn't know what he walked into for a long damn time."

"You think he started to figure it out?"

"Yes." Sam nodded. "He did. That's why we were here."

"What are you talking about, Sammy?"

"I'm talking about the way he watches you when you're not looking. I'm talking about how insistent he was that you marry Liz… like it would change everything."

"Like what?"

"Like… that's something that only he knows."

--

Liz looked up when Dean entered the room they had taken over since John's collapse. Dean stared at her. "This psychic mumbo jumbo… you ever get any of it from my dad?"

"No, you either. Don't know why… just always seems to be alien related."

"So, never?"

"No, Dean? What's wrong?"

"Just… running over theories."

"Like what?"

"Dad told Bobby he was… visiting the future. Bobby thought he was crazy. Said some other stuff that no one is telling me about. Made Bobby run him off the last time we were there." Dean sank down onto the bed next to her, rubbed a firm hello to his unborn daughter. "I don't know. Everyone's working on a theory in there and there's some reason that they're not telling me everything."

"I could try to induce a vision… but you told me no."

"Don't want to lose both my ladies." He shrugged, talking mostly to her belly. "I want to see what Sam comes up with. He's been out of the hunt a while."

"What are your theories?" Liz covered his hand with hers. "I know you have something working in that brilliant brain of yours." Watched the red creep up his face. "Dean, come on. Maybe talking about it will speed it along."

"Just… Sam talks a lot. Spills his guts like tomorrow's not coming. Says Dad says he's not seeing anyone. You and I know what we saw. What we have seen. He's been somewhere. With someone. He has that look. You said it yourself."

"Sometimes, yes, he does act like a man in love. I will admit that. Doesn't necessarily mean that there is a woman."

"I figure that much. Where does he go? He's not being taken care of. He's dropping weight like crazy. More muscle now than anything else."

"You noticed that, too?"

"He keeps going back… to save me… and I don't need saving… but then he goes back… even when I don't need saving." Dean lay back, keeping contact with his hand on her belly. "Maybe a succubus and it wouldn't be the first time. There was Miss Lyle."

"You know… he blocked her out?" Liz tapped his chin to make sure she had his attention. "He forgot about her."

"No he didn't."

"That's what he said and when he told me, I believed him. He forgot about her. Blocked her out. The whole incident… wiped it out… probably to keep his sanity." Liz adjusted her posture so she could stare at the ceiling. "She touched a tender nerve and he shut it off." She stroked his arm. "Did he ever find out what kind of demon she was?"

"I don't remember… I had a… rather abrupt and traumatizing entry into this world right after. We'd been cruising til then. Coasting on Dad's vengeance until he learned how to really fight it and then I learned it too and we kept Sammy out of it."

"You think this is a succubus, too?"

"I think so but I don't know the angle. I've known a succubus to drain a man over months but not years. Not one so deep in the clutches." He looked at her. "She could have had him at any time he was gone. Sucked him dry with a smile on his face."

"What's the endgame for a succubus?"

"What's that?"

"What's the point in it all? What does she get from sucking a man's soul out through his libido?"

"Different legends by different regions. Hungry Succubus means an Incubus in the area but there's no evidence of that."

"Incubus?"

"Succubus steals the spunk from the man, sometimes posing as a dead wife, then takes spunk to the Incubus who uses it to impregnate a lonely widow who thinks she's getting lucky or sometimes… the whole King Arthur deal. She fucks her husband before he's supposed to be home from a trip then finds out that he's dead. All cases, the birth is about hellspawn."

"You think King Arthur was hellspawn?" She laughed.

"Dude was a master of warfare by accident, hung out with druid wizards and rebelled against his prophetic fate but ultimately ends up banging his sister, fathering the anti-Christ, and dying for nothing."

"He fought against his nature… by your account."

"Maybe."

"So… you think your dad has taken up with a succubus?"

"Maybe."

"But didn't drain him and we don't think he's father to King Arthur?"

"Shut up."

"Guess John is the only one who knows the answer to that."

--

Liz placed her hands on John's head. Dean helped her keep her balance in her precarious position and in her delicate condition. Pastor Jim stood by with a book of anti-possession spells. Sam stared, in awe, at what was happening. Liz whispered softly as she tried to make a connection. "Come on, John. We've done this before." She took a deep breath. "Let me in, John."

Her hands glowed and John's eyes opened… just enough. Then Liz was swept away into images that made no sense. Then she felt it. Some outside force with a hold inside John's head. She focused and attempted to sever it. Then it attacked. She lurched backward but kept her hands on John's head. Dean caught her body and tried to pull her away. "No! I can do this."

"Liz, let go." Dean begged.

"Liz. Let go." Sam reached over to grip her hands.

"NO! Don't touch me!" She screamed and let energy flow down her arms and into John's head, little by little.

John's eyes flew open, his hands gripped Liz's on his head.

"That's it. John, stay with us." Liz fought down the urge to vomit all over him and sent as much energy as she could to the thing attached to her father-in-law's brain. It was like a leech but… there was something else. She sent one last burst and it let go. John collapsed back against the bed, eyes wide open. "John? You with us?"

"Get away from me." John's voice was like gravel in a turbine.

Liz let go. "Are you with us, John?"

"Dad?" Dean cut in, helping Liz off the bed and getting into his father's line of sight.

"Dean?" John let his eyes shift to his son, then a sob erupted from his throat before he grabbed his firstborn and crushed him to his chest. "Dean, this really you?"  
"Um, yeah?" Dean forced John's hands away. "Dad, are you okay?"

"What happened?"

"We were kind of hoping that you would tell us." Sam cut in.

"Sam?" The desperateness in his voice in that moment, brought tears to both his sons' eyes.

"Yeah, Dad, I'm right here." Sam stepped into John's view and was unprepared for the arm reaching out to pull him into a hug.

Dean tipped his head toward Pastor Jim, who said a prayer and flicked holy water over them both. Nothing happened. No one flinched. He continued to pray, words that Dean couldn't make out but probably knew by heart. He took a deep breath, exchanged looks with Pastor Jim, Liz and Sam, then cleared his throat. "Dad? What's the last thing you remember?"

"You. Talking my ear off." John released Sam so he could look at his other son. "Driving through… New York State."

"Jesus Christ, Dad." Dean sagged against the wall. "That was two and a half years ago."

"Say what?"

"John?" Pastor Jim walked around the side of the bed with his book, his bible and his rosary. "Tell me how you got here. Tell me why you're here."

"Jim?" John shut his eyes and tried to remember but he really didn't know how he got here. Opening his eyes slowly, he became aware of his head pounding. Then his eyes focused on the doorway where his oldest son was holding a pregnant woman. Both of them crying. "Dean?"

"Get some rest, Dad. We'll talk later."

--

John showered but didn't recognize himself. He couldn't remember being this thin, fit… not since his days in the service. Never thought he'd ever look so old… or live so long to look so old. "Two and a half years… I missed my fiftieth birthday."

"Dean says that you spent it sitting on a bench, drinking lemonade because you were on pain pills and couldn't drink." Sam sat on the edge of the bathtub.

John had to smile at that. Tall and lanky as Sam was, he always seemed to be able to fold himself up to fit in the tiniest of places. "Why was I on pain pills?"

"You fractured your femur." Sam relayed with drawn out words as if he didn't believe the story himself.

"How in the hell did I do that?"

"Said you got drunk and tried to take on a set of stairs to get to a new bottle. The stairs won."

John nodded. Given the last hunt he remembered and the last few bottles that he was sure he didn't… a drunken stumble seemed about right. "Who's the girl?"

Sam stared at his father, new knowledge making his mouth wary. "That's Liz."

"Whose baby?"

"Dean's." Sam said with a smile. "I'd never in a million years would have thought that he'd get married and then he did and she's gonna have his baby and I really think that… he's gonna be a good father."

"When did they get married?"

"Last week… literally two seconds before you passed out on us." Sam studied his father studying himself. "You were pretty adamant that those two get married… no matter what. It was like you expected something to happen to you."

There. Some clue as to what was going on. "What did I tell you two?"

"Nothing to Dean. Nothing to Liz. You kept it between you and me because you really didn't want them to stay unmarried." He cleared his throat. "You and Liz are pretty close, Dad."

"How's that?"

"For whatever reason, she likes you. You get along. You piss each other off…"

"But we're close. How's that?" John repeated.

"You have an understanding. You'd both kill for Dean and that gets her in the family in my book. Maybe yours, too."

--

To say that she was tired didn't cover the weariness in Liz's bones. Her head pounded, her legs felt like noodles and her belly cramped something awful. Dean stroked her hair out of her face. "Liz, you see something?"

"No." She shook her head slowly. "Nothing… but… there was definitely something there."

Dean's attention was torn. His wife, the mother of his unborn child, needed something that he didn't know how to give and his father, out of it for a week, and limping around trying to regain his memory. Pastor Jim and Bobby kept exchanging looks. Pastor Jim was whispering about something that Dean could barely make out… didn't stop him from trying.

"Liz… talk to me." Dean prompted once more.

"Dean… I think that we tried it too late. I think that whatever had a hold of him…" She looked up at them. "I think it was erasing his memory while he slept. Covering its tracks. It attacked me when I…" She took a breath and let it out slowly. "I can't really describe how it felt… I've seen bad things in my life… but they all had human motivation to them. This thing is evil. It doesn't want John dead, it wants to destroy him from the inside out."

--

John put on fresh clothes, wondered at how baggy they fit. Grateful for the belt that Sam lent him. Sam. Grateful that Sam was there. Wanted to ask, about college, but didn't… just stared. "Did you come home for Dean's wedding?"

"No." Sam shook his head, tears pricking his eyes. "I came because you called me."

John's chin trembled as visions of their fight flashed in his head. The things he had said to his son. So many things he had wanted to take back but was too proud to tell Sam that he didn't mean any of it. "I called you? What did I say?"

"Not a whole lot. Said… you knew about what happened to my girlfriend, which I'll explain later, and told me that I should be with the family… so that I wasn't dealing with it on my own." Sam took a breath and met his father's eyes. "You said that it was good to hear my voice."

"Even better to see you with my own eyes." John admitted, vision blurred by unspilled tears. "You look good. I think you even got taller."

"Yeah, half an inch. Not much." Sam shrugged. "I uh… never quite got out of the habit of early morning drills."

"Dean ain't done those in years." John studied his boy's face. Found all the things he'd missed. All the tells because Sam had always been a crappy poker player.

"I know but… um… wake up, kiss Jess, push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups, a two-mile run and back home for breakfast, studying and off to class." It was Sam's turn to allow a small tremble to creep up his jaw. "I miss that."

"How'd she die, son?" John placed a warm hand on his son's shoulder.

"She burned." He swallowed down the lump, found his anger and lifted vengeful eyes. "On the ceiling." He managed to tamp it down a bit. "So, after we figure out what had its hooks in you, we're hunting that son of a bitch down."

--

Liz leaned against Dean, felt his kisses in her hair and his hand rubbing her belly. Watched as Sam, Bobby and Jim performed all manner of rituals over John's head. Dean whispered in her ear. "Are you okay?"

"Once we started up, he became like a father to me… I tease you about how good looking he is because I know it gets your hackles up… It… hurts to see him like this…" She touched her belly.

"Yeah. I hear you. I'm going to miss him."

Her hand stilled his. "Cramps are gone. She's kicking though."

"Yeah." Dean leaned his head against hers.

"He's clean." Pastor Jim announced. "I can't swear that he was when he walked in but he's clean now."

"He's just missing two and a half years of memory." Dean snorted and got to his feet to help his father up. "You don't deserve not to remember them."

"That's a tone you're taking to me." John stared at his oldest son in awe at the change.

"Yes, sir, it is. Hospital visits, overdoses, talking to yourself, taking liberties with my life that I should have told you better about… I'm telling you now. You're missing those years but I am not." Dean straightened his father's shirt. "I've done my share, all my life, of taking care of you, Dad. I don't want to do it again unless you're senile, in which case, I'll find a home to take you and strap you down."

John nodded to himself. "Took you long enough to complain about it."

"Well, I'm spread a bit more thin than I was growing up and it'll be thinner come fall and… I can't pick you up and dust you off anymore." Dean glanced back to his wife. Wife. How weird was that?

John nodded to himself, recognizing the look on his son's face and wished he could remember how it got there. "I guess not. But you never should have had to." Glancing over to make sure that he had the privacy he needed, John stepped closer. "You keeping her safe?"

"Yeah, Dad. We both do."

John felt moisture gather in his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time all day. "It's… good to see you this way, Dean. It really is. Means that I didn't mess you up too badly."

"Not that you didn't try but… you've been a different person these last months." Dean took a deep breath. "I'm gonna miss that you. I love you but… sometimes you are one ornery son of a bitch."

"You watch how you're talking about your grandmother." He gripped Dean's shoulder in a firm squeeze. "I know it, though."

"You're… kind of mellow for a guy who was in a coma for a week and lost two years of memory."

"Ain't got a choice but to figure it out as I go, now do I." John stepped back. "I go on a diet?"

"Booze… workouts for the… drainage backup but… other than that…" Dean crossed his arms. "Dad, I didn't have a clue what was going on with you these last couple of years."

"But you do now?"

"No, but there's something out there gunning for you." Dean glanced over at his wife. "Do you remember Sue Lyle?"

"Sue Lyle?" John reached out to grip his boy. "Killed that bitch for trying to kill you."

"Me?" Dean blinked at his father. "I thought she went after Sam."

"She took Sam. Wanted Sam… she tried to kill us." John shook his head.

"What? Why? Why didn't you ever tell me that?"

"I… forgot…"

"Why would she want to take Sam?"

"Azazel?" Sam questioned as he reentered the room. "Because of Azazel?"

"Who?" John turned.

"You told me that was the name of the demon that killed Mom, killed Jess." Sam watched his father carefully. "A demon tried to take me when I was a kid, huh? Miss Lyle?" John nodded. "And now I'm seeing things that happen? Dad, what the hell is going on? What do you know?"

John looked between his sons then jerked his head towards the table covered in books. "Boys, we've got work to do."

TBC


	25. Chapter 25

Part 25

Liz set a bowl of food on the table. Maybe someone would eat it. She kept her distance from John but couldn't stop watching him. He pored over the books, the fingers of his right hand rubbing over the gold ring on his left hand. His pen hooked over his middle finger until he made a note over some of Sam's and circled some of Dean's. Suddenly, he looked up to catch her eye. "Not hungry."

"You are." Liz corrected him and set a fork next to him before moving across the room again.

John read a few more sentences before he picked up the fork to eat because he was hungry but he hadn't wanted to lose his place. Dean cleared his throat but didn't say anything. Nobody was saying anything of relevance. Their notes clued him in loud and clear that there was a part of the story that no one was telling him. No one was explaining why there were notes on personal fantasies and why Djinn texts were even on the table.

Halfway through the bowl, he noticed something he should have noticed sooner. "Dean… where's my journal?"

"In your bag, probably." Liz piped up from the doorway. "I'll go look."

"She knows about this?" John asked quietly.

Dean looked up. "Yeah."

"Your son's not hunting." John cleared his throat and turned when Liz tapped him with the journal. "Thanks."

"Daughter. Not son." Liz corrected. "She's not going to hunt." She looked to Dean. "We've already discussed it." Dean reached out and tugged her into his side. "Dean, you have to tell him again."

"Tell me what again?"

"On the way up here." Dean averted his eyes. "We had a family meeting." He looked to his brother. "We were all in agreement but I don't want to spring it on you at the last minute. We're naming her after Mom."

John nodded, his fingers sliding over the gold ring on his left hand. "Sounds… good. Even better if we can kill the evil son of a bitch who killed her grandmother."

"You remember anything?" Dean asked for the millionth time. "When you woke up, you seemed surprised to see me."

"I didn't know what was happening." John admitted. "I didn't know where you were."

"So, nothing?"

"No."

"You didn't write anything down from all your trips, John." Liz worded her sentence carefully. "We don't know where you were going or what you were doing or if you were hunting anything."

John only nodded and slipped a picture from the front pocket of his journal. It was a bad shot. Mary had always hated it but he loved it. "We'll figure it out."

--

Bobby turned from his books. "What kind of trees are in this wood? The wood that John was babbling about."

Liz blinked at him. "Um… some Oak, mostly along the roads. Willows…" She turned to grab Sam's laptop to pull up a map of the area.

"Where does he take his walks?"

"I don't know how far he goes but I remember he was gone for hours." Liz pulled up a satellite imagine of her little town. "See, he would disappear through here."

"These look like elders."

"I think so."

"Huh."

"What?"

"You're right. Elders and willows and pines into the hillside but the edge is rimmed with Oak and… that looks like… Larch?"

Liz couldn't get a good look in the satellite image and had to run out to the car. Dean met her as she was rifling through some pictures in the backseat. "They're alternated in groups…"

"What?" Dean looked at the pictures.

"That's a Larch… four of them, kind of close together and that's an Oak cluster. They alternate that way all the way down the highway." She explained as she examined the backgrounds of each picture all the way into Jim's study. "Larch is protection against evil, right? What about oak?"

"Oak, especially white oak, is used for solidifying or fortifying a spell." Bobby tapped the book he was reading out of. "So, the next question is what is in that wood that no one wanted getting out?"

"Bobby, it's a big wood. Lots of trees. How sure are you that someone trapped something inside?" Dean protested.

"I'm not. Only one who knew was your daddy but he don't know anymore." Bobby jerked his head towards the door. "It's all starting to add up though."

"So… say there is something in there. It can't get out but Dad walked into it."

"I'd say so and he could have walked into something big." Bobby rubbed a hand over his beard. "Who knows how long whatever it is has been in there. The spell could have weakened after all this time."

"The treeline is pretty dense though. Looks like new trees growing in between the old trees." Liz pointed out. "Wouldn't that make the spell stronger."

"Only if other trees in the protection line weren't cut down by people who didn't know why they were there." Bobby rolled his eyes as if everyone should know to ask questions before chopping down any tree in the woods.

"How will we know what's in there?" Liz gazed back at the room with the books all over all the tabletops.

"Won't know until we see it for ourselves."

Dean shared a look with his wife. "I guess we're going home."

--

Bobby's knees cracked when he climbed out of his truck. It had been a long silent ride with John. Jim would be flying in with a crate of texts he was borrowing from a friend in Maine. Liz led the way to the apartment over the little store. She went about fixing lunch and giving instructions to the bathroom and phone. Bobby watched John wander around the little room, examining the evidence of the previous years. No recognition. John had an excellent poker face and from his face, everyone would guess that he was winning but then… everyone had already seen his losing hand.

Bobby set his notebook and an armful of books on the coffee table which was nowhere near as sturdy as the shelf looked. "Maybe you should reinforce this thing with whatever's holding that thing up."

Dean sized up the coffee table. "If I get my hands on more lumber, I might just make a new one."

"Don't go adding chores to your fix-it list until you finish painting the baby's room." Liz chided from the kitchen. "Your ego is really out of control, mister."

"You're going to make a new table?" Bobby scoffed.

"I made the shelf and the crib." Dean puffed out his chest.

"He's a regular handyman." Sam rolled his eyes and sank onto the couch to resume the research. "Hunter, Builder, Candlestick maker."

"You're hilarious."

"Boys." John chided firmly but softly as he examined the pictures, some of which he was included in. Ran his hands over the shelf and felt its solid strength.

"Dad, you actually helped me put it together." Dean added, watching his father carefully.

"It's a good job, son." John nodded to himself, eyes on the photo of him and this girl, Liz, sitting on a bench with the shadow of the photographer blocking the sun. Next to it, a stolen shot that John burned into his memory. He and Dean, heads ducked under the hood, grease smeared all over their arms and faces. Why couldn't he remember that? He would. He would hold a memory like that in the middle of a fight with evil, to keep himself on the right path. Another, an expression that John knew he wore far too often. Lost in thinking about the thing that killed his Mary and staring off toward the woods. The pain was white hot in his heart again. He'd never blame Dean for it. Knew Dean needed Liz. Could see it in the way they moved around each other, looked at each other. Still, it stung.

Then he felt it. Some silent tugging of his mind. Alarms went off. Not alarms. Sirens. He did not remember leaving the living room but suddenly he was outside on the stairs, clenching the rail and staring into the woods. He heard the cocking shotguns behind him and stopped walking.

"John?" Liz. Was she crying? "What is it?"

"Siren calls." He stated simply. There was nothing else to call them. "I think."

"Fucking Sirens." Dean cursed and jerked his head to Bobby, who disappeared in the house. "And here I thought it was a Succubus."

"Maybe they aren't all that different." Sam muttered.

"Still begs the question of why it hasn't killed him yet."

"Maybe he never found it." Liz whispered as she followed John's gaze. She felt it, too. Something was calling… silently. "John, what do you hear?"

"Nothing." He shook his head. "Feel it. Want to take a walk."

"Time for more research boys." Bobby waved a book at them. "Local lore. Anything to do with the history of those woods and who trapped whatever's in there."

--

John read until his eyes blurred. It was too much. The research on this thing and the research on the life he'd missed out on the last two years. Taking his whiskey bottle out to the stairs, he let the night air cool his burning head and then the whiskey warm him right back up. Missing two years of memory was discomfiting to say the least. He'd read through his journal the barest details on hunts and little to nothing on his life, but that wasn't so unusual. The thing he'd found the most puzzling was a picture of Liz and himself; standing behind her with his arm secured across her shoulders as if he'd been pulling her away from (presumably the photographer) Dean, her hands braced on his forearm and an indulging smile on her face. They had said that he was close with Liz but he couldn't ever imagine being this close to anyone again.

John scooted to the railing when Liz stepped out onto the landing to check on him. Silently, she descended a few steps to have a seat at his feet. She patted his shin and stared off into the woods with him. "I know that you have no reason to trust me right now but… I know you, John. I know you're beating yourself up for letting yourself get caught up in this mess and trying to figure out the best way to fill in the gaps." She turned up to face him. "I owe you, John. You let me keep Dean after all the fights we got in and… I'll help them save you from whatever this is."

"Let you?" John asked, his voice harder than he'd planned.

"I think you had spent a great number of months trying to keep us apart after you saw what took us a little longer to see… but you kept bringing him back to me." Liz had a soft smile on her face. "Then I sort of blackmailed you into making it Dean's decision to stay or go."

"Dean chose to stay?"

"Dean chose to let me have my say. Then he chose to go but he brought you back with him when he came back. His excuse was that if I was going to expand the Winchester line, then it was his job to make sure that you got to see it happen." She took a breath. "I guess it was something you and he had discussed before and he hadn't taken it seriously because he didn't… he didn't ever think that he could have a family of his own."

"He told you that?"

"Yeah. One night… he'd been drinking and you weren't here and he looked at me like he was going to pop the question, only he didn't. He just started talking about family and how it was the most important thing in the world for him. Above prowling for chicks, above prowling the things that went bump… above finding the demon that ripped the heart out of his family. Said that he had never known what you wanted for your boys because maybe you didn't dare say it out loud because then anyone could use it against you. Maybe he was right."

"Maybe he was." John nodded. "You give him something, girl. You do. I always wondered what he would look like if he was really and truly happy and I think I see it." Maybe it was the booze. Maybe it was injuries that he didn't remember acquiring but John felt the tears in his eyes. "I only wish Mary could see him."

"John, I tend to give you a lot of grief about the way that I believe you raised your family but I will be the first to admit that I can't think of what you could have done differently." Liz stared out into the night. "When I was 17, a friend of mine, a very close friend died. I knew, I just knew there was no way that it was an accident and everyone was telling me that he killed himself and that was just the most wrong thing in the world to me. Alex was a lot of things, least of all depressed or suicidal. I took hold of that knowledge and I didn't let go until I found the truth…" She glanced up at him. "Avenging him was bittersweet but… that's what I did for my friend. God save the thing that kills Dean because I loved Alex and I love his memory. Dean is so much more than that to me. I will march into Hell itself to bring him back."

"That makes two of us." John leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his daughter-in-law's forehead.

"Well, it's nice to see that I still have your blessing."

"Well, I hope I have as nice a time getting to know you as I apparently did before." John fished the picture out of his pocket.

She laughed when she saw it. "I wondered where this one got off to. Dean and that leather jacket. You said you'd take me as an even trade for it since apparently Dean had no intention of giving it back… that was right after Dean tried to negotiate for the Impala." She slid her fingers over the shadow in the picture. "He never has gotten that you gave him that car years ago."

"Yeah, I guess not." He took the picture when she handed it back.

"I'd like us to be friends again but I know that it won't happen overnight." She started to stand, getting to her feet was becoming more and more awkward. "John, I just want you to keep in mind that… Dean's taking this whole thing really hard." When John averted his eyes, she nodded. "Yeah, I know you know. The two of you are close… but you've been closer. You've been really open with him and he's been enjoying every minute of it. Sometimes when I'm looking at him when you're talking and I can see the little boy before his mother died. I have never doubted your love for him, John. Never… but he has and the two of you got it all squared away and… he's scared that it's changed because you don't remember."

"I didn't do right by my boys. I know. I should have done better but they're grown men, now."

"I'm really glad that you and Sam are talking. It's been yesterday to you but years for him and I'm really glad that… It's a good step and he needs you right now."

"You going to come and have all these talks for them?" He joked.

"If I have to." She used his shoulder as an anchor to get back up the stairs.

John tipped the bottle back into his mouth. The Demon. The monster in the woods. He could barely remember the time in his life when 'the monster in the woods' wasn't just a story he told around the campfire for a cheap thrill. A hand on his knee, made John stop drinking for a minute. The hand slid up his thigh and then another on the other and when John looked down, there was his son's wife. Different hair, different clothes and minus a pregnant belly.

"John." He heard his name in her voice but her mouth didn't move. Her hands slid up his thighs, spreading them so she could slide between. His vision zeroed in on her tongue as it slid over her full lips. "Kiss me, John, I've missed you."

Leaping to his feet, John stepped inside the apartment door and slammed it shut. Breathing hard, he tried to piece together what had just happened out there. Behind him, he could feel their eyes on him. All of them, including… "Shit."

"Dad?" Dean approached slowly.

"Something's out there. Not a ghost." He managed tightly. "It's… seducing me."

--

Mermaids. Sirens. Succubae. They all could summon men with a word, a song, a dream. Troll, imps and pixies were known for tricking drunks. John hated to admit to his flaws but he drank and he sure as hell looked at pretty women. Sue Lyle was the last time he'd gotten laid so he was probably due for a fantasy or two about the fairer sex. John knew there was more to it but he didn't know how much more or what it would mean.

"I say silver is a solid bet." Dean offered.

"You just like the smelting." Sam snorted.

"Hell, if it didn't have such a hold on the old man, I'd just say we should move the hell away from it and never look back." Bobby groaned. "Where is he today, anyway?"

"Sleeping off his scare." Dean gestured to the couch where his father's leg dangled off the side.

"Guess we better figure out what it is and how to kill it quick."

--

John stood at the tree line but did not step in. He could see his intended path almost as if he were already walking it. Could see that he would end up where he started but with none of the familiar things he had around him. Dean was gone. Sam was on the other side of the country. Then bits and pieces flashed before his eyes.

He knew that it wasn't true but he didn't know what else to do with the hole in his chest, growing bigger by the second. He stepped forward and kept his eye on the surrounding foliage. Pieces of his lost memory came to him as he traveled to the heart of the wood. Where something was trapped, they said. Something horribly old. Had probably been weakened in order to be trapped and had spent who knew how long recuperating in the wood. John himself had been weak and he'd probably walked right in and fed the damn thing so now it had a hold on him. Then he stopped abruptly.

There was a clearing. Small but there. There was a woman sunbathing in the sunlight coming down from the hole in the trees. She wasn't model beautiful but held a sensual quality that instantly made John's crotch heavy with want. He'd be infirmed if he thought she didn't know he was there, the way she arched and stretched. He didn't know why but he couldn't step between the two trees that would lead to that beauty. He wanted to. He knew what she was but he wanted to anyway. One step forward and he would be in the clearing with her. That's when he looked down and saw the glint in the sunlight. Silver. Silver spikes all around the clearing. Then he looked up again and she was staring at him. John, boy, you are in deep shit.

TBC


	26. Chapter 26

Part 26

"She's kept there by a ring of silver stakes."

"I knew it. You owe me a Benjamin." Dean smacked his brother.

John rolled his eyes. "Boys. Pay attention. I don't think that was her true form. I think it was a show." He cut his hand through the air at Dean before his eldest could get the words out. "I still don't know what she is. It. Whatever."

"Let's hope it's a she. I don't want to think about you swinging that way." Dean just couldn't hold his tongue.

"Shut up, you idjit." Bobby swatted the boy with his hat.

"So, when we pack the saddlebags, what will we take?" Sam cut in. "Silver? Bullets? Fire?"

"They had enough silver to choke an elephant. I'm thinking it won't kill her." John braced himself against the door frame. "If they could make the silver stakes, I'm sure they had fire. They trapped her for a reason." He looked around the room. "I don't know how long she's been there but they were not able to kill her."

"I'm hoping the preacher has more luck when he gets here." Bobby snorted. "I got nothing."

"Pastor Jim is stuck because of a freak snow storm." Sam volunteered. "He was thinking Succubus but like a really old one."

"How old?" Liz asked just to get the question out there.

"Like… maybe… before men were in triple digits old." He looked to his father and Bobby. "I mean… like maybe half-blood demon old."

"And Jim has those texts." John cursed under his breath.

"Those would be the ones." Bobby nodded.

"I don't understand. If there was something like this, why isn't there any record of it?" Liz shook her head. "I mean. Surely someone would have passed the information down so that it would never be let out."

"Normally, it would be. I've spent all day with the maps and on the phone with preservationists. The town's old but not ancient." He flicked a picture that John drew of the stakes. "These look like they were done 17th century or so, maybe before. I'm thinking she didn't always live here, that's just where she got trapped." Bobby tsked under his breath. "But if this thing is old as we think, so's her game and her friends. Maybe right after she was trapped, one of her friends offed the keepers to let her out or to keep her there. Who knows why that thing's really in there."

"There's no local lore." John shook his head.

"No, you read all there was." Liz shrugged. "Two years ago."

"Who found it?"

"Well, I did."

"I'm on it." Dean made for the door.

"What?" Liz turned to watch him go.

"When you went looking for the lore, Liz, did you know what you know now?" Sam asked gently.

"Well, no…"

"Then you probably ruled out some books that you might have thought were trash."

"Oh."

--

"Who am I?" She whispered. "Who do I look like?"

"I'd say my son's wife, about six months ago."

"You like to look at her John. Come in here and I'll let you do more than look."

"Who are you?" John asked again.

"Oh, I've been around. You've met some of my daughters, John." She smiled. "Jenny, Peg, Lorelei… oh, I've had so many." Her smile grew. "But you've also known my mother, haven't you… What did you call out in the middle of the night? Soft, so your boys couldn't hear you taking a woman who wasn't their mother? Sue?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Dear Susan? The demon you took to bed, John. She's so old the mountains are newborns to her." She licked her lips. "Shame about the body you killed. Mom just… flew away. Found a new body. She always does. Lucky girl."

"What's her name?"

"Oh no. I know about you and your habit of killing my loves… Stay with me, John. No more killing, hunting. Just me in your arms for all eternity."

John swore he could feel her hand along his shoulder though about six yards lay between them. Felt the hand smooth down his chest and cup his crotch.

John sat up with a cold sweat dripping down his face, drenching his clothes. He lay in his son's living room, sunset washing him in reds and oranges. Concerned faces all around. "It's a demon… or demon-spawn."

"How do you know?"

"She told me."

Sam walked into his father's line of sight. "Why would she do that?"

"She's taunting me. Said I'd met her daughters… Jenny, Peg and Lorelei." John ran the names through his head, then tried running the names of evil bitches through his head. "Jenny Greenteeth, Peg Powler."

"Shit. Jenny, Peg and Lorelei." Bobby ran a hand over his head. Nix, nymph, whatever. Evil bitches.

Dean held up a book. "The local book of the dead. It's actually from a few towns over but I think that she lured them out here and snuffed them and then the townsfolk had to fight fire with magic."

"What's it say?" John pressed.

"Well, the death count in men was pretty damn high after the white settlements took a strong hold. I think they brought it with them." He handed over the book. "The ages of the men were… well."

"Why?" John pondered.

"Early death rates." Liz offered. "The settlers didn't live as long as we do now. I mean… 50 was ancient. All the elders were rarely into their sixties."

"So… it likes seasoned and experienced men." Sam made a face. "How many of these men were fathers?"

"All of them."

"Her daughters." John cursed to himself. "She's a breeder."

"Whoa… like?" Sam blinked at his father. "You mean… really?"

"Dude, really." Then Dean stared at his father. "You don't think you…"

"I think that was her plan. I couldn't tell you if it worked." John shook his head.

"We need the preacher." Bobby cut them off before Liz could get her question out.

--

John was starting to get used to the dreams. At least he hoped it was a dream. He just had to make sure that he kept the damn thing interested without stepping over the silver ring. John knew that he couldn't trust any of his instincts. This bitch had insinuated herself into his psyche. He had thought, for a moment, that Liz was behind the whole thing. Then he had seen it, had felt it. The image of desire was part of the thrall of the beast. He'd never admit it out loud but his son's wife was a beautiful woman. Given that she was his son's wife, would cause him the most torment as the object of his lust. That was the object after all. Torment.

John stared at her. She taunted him with big doe eyes and flashes of tantalizing flesh but she knew when to bring out the big guns.

"Maybe the new is not what you really want, John." She purred. "She's a pretty girl but she is just a girl. Maybe what you want is a woman." Suddenly, where Liz stood, there was Ellen. "I always did find you kind of handsome, John. Bill was even concerned about it from time to time."

It didn't fit. Ellen Harvelle was a fine woman but this kind of sensuality was never anything John had associated with the dead hunter's wife. Then it hit him. "Mary…. I need Mary."

"Oh, John… she's no fun." Ellen's smoky voice told him. "She's saved herself for you, married you, bore you two strapping boys… Time to pick up someone new."

"I'll walk in, willingly." John told it. "I will do… anything you want… but you have to be Mary."

She huffed. It was kind of funny, watching Ellen huff. She flicked her hand at him.

Then John woke up where he'd been having his breakfast. "Betrayal."

"What?" Bobby sat up. He hadn't even noticed that John had fallen asleep. Hell, maybe he'd fallen asleep himself.

"That's what it feeds off of." John grimaced when he swallowed down his cool coffee. He took the opportunity to check for ears while he refreshed his cup. "You know something you're not telling me but I don't know who you're protecting, Bobby."

"Well, maybe it shouldn't be said to some people."

"Like maybe Dean and his wife?"

"Like maybe them." Bobby agreed.

"Shit, Bobby, what did I tell you?" John ran a hand over his face.

"Not what you said, more like how you was acting. Maybe some things that maybe Dean said about how you was acting. But Dean don't know what I know."

"Which is what?" John turned sad eyes on his friend. "I was fantasizing about that little girl?"

"Something along those lines."

"Jesus, Bobby. It keeps calling me in my sleep. Looking like her but not the way she is now… the way she probably was when we first got here." He sighed and nearly burned his mouth with a fresh mouthful of coffee. "It's trying to keep my attention. Turned into another woman I know, thinking I'd prefer someone older right now."

"And."

"Anyone but her." John kept the name to himself because he had the one, maybe two, dreams about her in the past. "I asked it to be Mary."

"Shit, John." Bobby cursed and lost his appetite.

"She couldn't do it. Starting making excuses about why not but she never did it. She… dismissed me."

"What kind of excuses?"

"That… Mary'd never been with anyone but me. She married me. She'd had my boys… Said that Mary was no fun."

"So, betrayal, huh. Nice little torment to feast on."

"We need a weapon, Bobby. Silver is holding its body in place. Woods is limiting her range but she's getting stronger."

"We'll find something, John."

--

Jim arrived with the cold still floating off his clothes and in the crate he carried, he carried their hope. John watched as Dean unloaded the crate which did not contain a single book but instead an arsenal that the Vatican was sure to be missing. He was stunned by a particularly angry spear. Dean lifted it to the light. It had attracted his boy as well.

Jim opened his mouth to explain but John waved his hand at him to silence him. "Dean, tell me about what you're holding."

"It's crude." Dean lifted his eyes but not his head, ready for this pop quiz. "It's unpolished silver, I can smell it. Pre-Christian."

"More." John demanded.

Dean ran his tongue over his teeth, lowered his eyes to study the weapon in his hands. "It's got wood splinters fixed into it, stained with blood. Don't know what kind of blood. It's hefty. It'll take force and aim to hit home. Have to get pretty close." He twisted it between his hands to get a solid grip. He struck out with it, adjusted it and tried again. "Pretty ancient. Don't think the Romans built this thing. I think they found it and kept it."

Jim stared at the boy and crossed his arms. "You've been reading. I thought you said that reading was for kitty-cats."

"That's not what I said." Dean lowered his head, mouth turning up at the corners.

"Dean!" Liz gasped in horror at her husband actually saying that to a priest.

"Oh, my child, he's said way worse in my presence." Jim walked across the room and took the spear from Dean's hands. "This was found and smuggled out of Rome in the last century. Its origins are unknown and the carbon dating makes this weapon just older than man-made fire."

"I thought you said that evolution was against God, Pastor Jim." Sam leapt in.

"Never you mind what I said before." Jim tilted the spear to show off the wood splinters. "These… never decay. They never fall out. Never dry out. It's old world magic for old world monsters."

"That is just… awesomeness." Dean took the spear back. "Bet this things kills just about anything." He hefted it between his hands before tossing it across the room to his father.

John caught it with one hand, then twirled it until it fit to his hands. His head began to ache, which he took as a sign that it was the right weapon. "She's ringed in Silver and in Wood, Preacher."

"The settlers didn't have my connections." Jim reminded John. "Who does she look like?"

"Everyone I would avoid." John answered simply.

"We still need some back up incantations to make sure she's weak enough when we stage our attack." Bobby cautioned, the look in John's eye making him nervous.

"Everyone get some shut eye. We're hitting the books nice and early. I want her dead by midnight."

--

Frosted breath panted between the trees as John made his way over fallen logs. Spear at his back, he marched onward. Despite the cold, it was a scantily clad young woman sitting in the clearing. Leaning on the trees, he stared. She smiled. "I knew you'd come to me, John." She crossed her arms to rub for warmth. "It's so cold… I need a kiss to warm me up."

John took a deep breath, cold burning his lungs. It was snowing and the forecast was calling for a blizzard. If he got stuck, he might not find his way back before the worst of it hit. If he turned back now, he might make it. If he waited for the cover of night and the aid of his friends and his boys, they could have this over with in just two more days.

"John, I'm so cold."

John stepped over the silver spikes and the stench of dead wood met his nose before he could step back. The arms wrapped around him before he could take another breath. Decay. Death. Evil.

--

Liz frowned as the hot water kettle whistled. Nothing. She felt nothing. The silent tugging was gone. Dean bent his head over a book. Sam was asleep on top of his. Bobby was snoring on a cot in the baby's room. Jim had gone to shower. "Dean… where's John?"

TBC


	27. Chapter 27

Part 27

In the end, Sam stayed behind with Liz. Dean led the march into the wood. The tracks were all but covered by the snow, which was falling faster and faster. Bobby brought up the rear, a roll of twine in his hands, giving slack when needed, their only way to be sure they didn't get lost themselves.

Dean carried his second choice weapon from Pastor Jim's box. A slender silver blade with a wicked edge, blessed by forty virgins on mount… whatever the preacher had said. Whatever the ritual, it would be his best friend until he got his father back. Pastor Jim kept up a litany of Latin as they pressed forward. The stench of rot hit them like a wall. Dean turned to his companions. "I think we're headed the right way."

Who knew how long John had been gone when they'd realized he'd taken off without them. Who knew what kind of provisions he'd packed. Who knew what they would find, if they found anything at all. It had been four hours in bad weather when Dean realized they'd have to turn back or be lost to the blizzard. Then he smelled smoke. Death and rot and smoke.

"Dean." Bobby's voice was thick with warning. Something was moving.

Raising the blade, Dean took a yard at a time to the left of the movement. Then he stilled as he saw what it was that moved in jerky unnatural patterns. "Dad."

"Jesus Christ." Bobby breathed.

John Winchester stood naked, bloody and nearly frozen in the middle of a clearing. Silver spikes in a perfect and unbroken ring surrounded dead earth. Trees grew just outside the ring but nothing inside. The spear stood upright in the center of a smoldering pile of disgusting something. Dean couldn't tell what it had been before.

"John?" Pastor Jim approached slowly.

John's head tilted just a bit. "She's weakest just before she feeds." He stared straight ahead, unseeing. "Used a whole bottle of lighter fluid. She didn't flame but she burned. A whole bag of salt."

Dean stepped forward and yanked the spear from the earth. It sang. A clear blue note straight from Heaven… if that existed. Not a scratch on it. Not a scorch on it. The steaming carcass collapsed in on itself in a flurry of embers, quickly doused in the falling snow. "Is it dead?"

"Come spring… maybe something will grow…" John's words chattered through his teeth as he began to feel the cold.

"John. Take my jacket." Bobby shucked it and reached into his bag for something, anything, to cover John. Where in the hell were his clothes?

"Come on. Let's get back." Dean stripped off his jeans. His thermals would have to do for the hike back. Arm supporting his father's shaky gait, Dean lead the way, following the twine. John didn't even shake. Just moved in unsteady steps.

Bobby looked to the pastor. "Jim? Theories?"

"We'll wait. He'll tell us when he's thawed."

"Then you don't know him very well."

"I know him well enough that he'll tell somebody.

--

It wasn't a coma but it felt the same. Hypothermia. Dean watched the doctors and nurses bring his father back from being frozen. Watched Sam hide his anger. Watched Pastor Jim and Bobby whisper in the corners. Watched Liz watching everyone else. There was really nothing anyone could do but watch and wait.

--

Sam stared at his father but didn't attempt to help the way Dean and Liz were taking turns doing. Holding his hand and touching his face and talking to him about the good times past and the good times to come. The doctors were hopeful. The crystallization hadn't caused too much damage. The 'bonfire' and the hike had done much to improve the situation from what it could have been. John might not be able to feel the tips of his fingers or toes but they wouldn't have to come off.

--

When John finally returned to the land of the living, he didn't want to be there. It cold and harsh and he missed his wife more than ever. The doctors said he's going to be fine. There's some loss of sensitivity in his extremities. He'll learn to regulate his body temperature without relying on his instincts. When the doctors left, Dean walked in alone. "Well, your pecker didn't fall off."

The joke fell flat. The words wouldn't come. 'Thank you' seemed lame.

Then Dean looked at him then looked away. "What happened out there, Dad? We notice you're gone and then it takes all goddamn night to find you and when we do… Now, Bobby and I figured you used your clothes to start the fire because everything else was wet… there was so much blood. The wounds… Dad?"

John didn't answer. How could he? Not to this son. "Dean… where's Sammy?"

"Outside. He's pissed off."

"I know. I need to see him." John cleared his throat to voice the request as an order. "I need to see him."

Dean left and then Sam walked in alone. He pulled a chair up to the bed and stared. All attitude and broken heart and pissed off boy. Man. He was a man now. "Did you kill it?"

"Yes."

"What did it say?"

"Nothing you and I didn't already know."

"Which means what? You remembered?" The room fell silent as the silence said just that. "Oh. So… you think you can fill us in on what we're missing?"

"No." John shook his head. "I can't. I won't."

"That bad, huh?"

"Worse." John whispered. The memories were relentless. "I spent a goodly amount of time covering for the fact that I was doing wrong. I saved your brother and dozens of other people along the way. I couldn't ever make it right."

"So what Bobby says is true?"

"I don't know what he said but… he's not one for lying."

"What are you going to do now Dad?"

"Sam… I think I should leave for a while."

"Just like that?"

"I need to build my strength and I need to do it somewhere your brother isn't…. I need you to stay behind and watch out for him, Liz and the baby."

Sam started to protest but sat up straight, shoulders squared. "Okay."

"We'll kill that son of a bitch but when we have our heads together. We'll get ourselves killed the way things are right now."

"Okay."

--

John spent two months hunting the little things and watching out for signs of the yellow-eyed demon named Azazael. There was nothing. Word got around though. When he wandered into Harvelle's, it was to get himself murdered and end his misery but Ellen just gave him her sad smile and reintroduced him to Joanna Beth, who had grown up just fine and too eager to follow her father into the grave.

Ellen poured him a whiskey but he sipped it. Nice and slow. She cocked her hip and cleared her throat. "John, it really is good to see you again… I heard you had some trouble with a big bad she-demon." John only nodded. "That bad, huh… you lose one of the boys?"

"No. The boys are fine." John stopped at that and Ellen let it be for a while.

"John… you were like family once and… it kills me to see you like this."

"Ellen… I found places in my soul that I didn't know existed… and they aren't good places." Ellen didn't speak, just waited for the tale. "I never thought I was the type to be a dirty old man. I've glanced at my share of beauties of all ages but… I never figured to be hit so hard by lust that… I enjoyed it. Their youth."

"John?"

He looked at her. "My boy Dean, he's gotten married to a woman that woke something up in me that nearly led me to my own death and maybe the both of theirs."

"John."

"Leaves me open to the possibility that I might let him die so that I could be with her."

"John, I'm sure-"

"I didn't say I would. I said it was a possibility… I did what I could to make sure that doesn't happen." He took a deep shuddering breath. "I've been played over and over again by the things the rule the night and I'm sick of it, Ellen. I want Dean and his wife to be safe when their baby comes. I want Sam to go back to school… I wish his girlfriend was alive again. I want my Mary." He laid his head down and wept openly, hoping it was as late as he thought it was and the bar was emptier than usual.

"Mom… what's wrong with Uncle John?"

"Just had a close one is all, honey. Lock up. I'm going to get him into bed."

John spent a week there. Listening to Jo's stories of botched hunts, giving pointers when Ellen wasn't listening. Then he knew he had to load up and head back to New York or else he'd never forgive himself for missing the birth of his first grandchild.

--

John peered into the window at the little boxes in little rows. Then he saw it. Pink with 'Winchester, Mary' across the end of it. John fiddled with his plastic bracelet for a moment before moving over to knock on the door. His bracelet was scanned and then he could pick up his granddaughter. She was warm and soft and the very best of her parents rolled into one. "Mary, it's Grandpa Winchester. It's good to finally meet you… Mary, our son done good. Married himself a good girl and look at our granddaughter."

Dark hair on top of fair skin and John wondered at her eyes. Would they be her namesake's or her mother's? Would Liz's alienness be passed on? Would the curse of the Winchester's fate be passed on? Would she have a shot at the kind of life that John would like for his grandchild?

When Dean walked in, John didn't hand her over. He didn't even look up when Sam snapped off a picture. He held on until she woke up, then Dean took her to Liz's room for feeding. Liz waved at him with a weary smile as she took her daughter into her arms. "Hey Papa Winchester."

It was Sam who ended up sitting with John while he fought the urge to fall apart. They had six months to solve this thing. His hand on his father's shoulder, Sam finally let himself see the father he'd denied he'd had through his teens. Dean had been right. John Winchester was indeed a family man. Loved his boys, would kill for his boys, would die for them given the opportunity.

Sam cleared his throat at long last. "Dad, if Dean was gone in that world… where was I?"

John took a deep shuddering breath and looked at his boy. "Trying to live in this world alone… and it doesn't suit you."

"How so?"

"I… stayed too long, Sam. I got to see that world change too much… and maybe it was all of my fears being played out but… I didn't like the person you turned into and I don't think you did either." He glanced around the courtyard they had secluded themselves in. "I never wanted this for you, Sam… but I didn't know how to give you what you wanted without feeling like you weren't safe."

"My whole life… I feel like you've been shielding me from the world and I have never understood it. These weird things kept happening like with your contacts and with Miss Lyle and I never really got it… but I'm starting to."

"Are you?"

"I have an IQ of 135… I was bound to figure it out eventually…" Sam tried to joke but he wasn't nearly as good as Dean was about it. "The thing that killed Mom… Jess… it wants me. I've been having these dreams, Dad…" He took a deep breath. "I think that if I stay here with Dean and Liz… that something bad will happen to them."

"How do you mean?"

"I mean… I think I'm a magnet for it, Dad. I don't want to bring it down on them. I need to get away."

"We'll stay awhile… I think I know what can get us out of here for a while."

--

The diner was garish. Aliens and UFOs and kids everyfuckingwhere. John sat down at the counter and picked up a menu. He ordered something that sounded like it might be a coconut cream pie. He wished for beer but ordered a coke. Then he waited and watched. Then he paid his bill before asking to speak to the owner. A tall thin man appeared and asked if there was something wrong with the service or the food.

"No, it was all very fine but I'm told Jeff Parker owns this place."

"That would be me."

"Then I have something for you." John reached into his pocket and pulled out a fat envelope. "It seems that you and I are family."

"How's that?" Jeff asked even as he opened the envelope and the first of many pictures showed themselves. Jeff stumbled but motioned for John to follow him. "Nancy!"

Jeff laid them on a table and spread them out, not sure where to look first. "Family, huh. So this man."

"Is my son, her husband. And the baby is theirs, just born last month." John held his hand out. "John Winchester."

"Jeff Parker." Jeff shook his hand firmly and introduced his wife when she appeared. "My wife Nancy. Nancy, this is John Winchester, Liz's father-in-law."

Nancy shook his hand, blinking wildly, then took to the pictures laid out on the table. "Oh my goodness, Liz." She flipped through the pictures and held up the one with Dean and the baby. "Name?"

"His is Dean… and that's Mary."

Jeff took in everything he could and let Nancy ask all the important questions. "Mary… such a sweet name. How long have they been married?"

"Not long." John nearly bit his tongue. "They… named her after Dean's mother… she passed away when the boys were young. That's Sam. Dean's little brother."

"Where is she? What happened to her first husband?"

There, John paused. "I know… a lot about why she left. She's not coming back. She doesn't know I'm here." He cleared his throat and ran a hand over the beard he hadn't shaved since waking up in the hospital four months earlier. "She'd kill me for put you two at risk but… I'm her daughter's grandfather. I trump her. If it were my boys… I'd want the same."

"Is… do you know about her first husband?"

"He's alive and a pain in my son's ass." John confirmed. They exchanged a look before returning to examine the evidence set before them. "She's happy and safe. Dean will see to that."

"Thank you." Nancy stilled the passing of photos to and fro. "John… for this… she's our only daughter."

"Mine, too." John nodded to them. "I don't have a lot of time. These are yours… I know where they keep the negatives."

--

John steered the truck along the freeway and listened to Sam postulating on the hunt. He wanted to slap him and tell him to shut up but Sam was there. Right there and trying. Even after all this time and all that had happened. John wouldn't risk losing him again.

"I figure it was predecessor to what we are used to fighting… like an avatar. She was more demon than anything else. Made her powerful even in her weakened state. You were injured and exhausted, I guess. Made you vulnerable is all. The drinking didn't help I suppose. I still don't know why it picked Liz though. Betrayal being the key and all. You had just met her."

"I think I know." John cleared his throat. "I was attracted to her. I didn't want to be but I was. And once she and your brother started up… it was far, far worse that I was."

"I guess I see that." Sam stared at his father for the longest time. Could almost feel his shame at how he had felt. "Maybe I was mad at the position we ended up in but… I guess I understand… and I don't blame you. Dean's… really laid into me and he's finally making sense."

"That right?'

"I never wanted to see your side before and now I can't not and I was a little shit to you all those years."

"You were a Winchester male. It's tough work raising a Winchester. I should know…" John tried to joke. "I didn't get along with my dad, Sam. Don't know why. We just didn't get each other… It's why I tried so hard all those years to get us common ground. Dean… was always so sure of himself in our family. He took care of us. It was easy for him to get the both of us. You and I didn't spend too much time getting to know each other, ever. I'm afraid that I messed up the important parts."

"Dad, missing a game or a play wasn't it."

"That's not the part I was talking about." John cut his eyes to his son. "I took care of my kids but I wasn't focused on them. I wasn't focused on you. I was focused on the things around you. The things coming after you. I wasted my time with you and by the time I realized that I had messed it up… and then you were gone."

"You saying that it was just something that happened. That we just don't get each other."

"It means that when you were willing to show an interest in me, I was too busy doing other things… and when I needed to take an interest in you… you'd already left… years before you actually did. I held on tighter. I got meaner and you left anyway."

"Dad… I…"

"It's the plight of a parent, Sam. Dean's going to learn this but I think he'll do a better job of it than I did."

"What makes you think that?"

"He raised you and you turned out okay."

Sam stared at his father for the longest time. "Dad… you raised me. Dean did a lot but… Dean and I are not alike. We are not… we're brothers and we love each other and we get the jokes because… you taught 'em to us. You did okay… you know… considering."

"Considering what? Brimstone and Hellfire every Thursday on cue?"

"Yeah… something like that." Sam blinked back a tear. "Dean was right… you've changed and… I don't want to fight with you anymore. I mean… if you can change, then maybe so can I." He cleared his throat. "I know that you're still protecting me and I'd appreciate it if you'd trust me enough to let me know what you're protecting me from."

"Okay… I think that you'll never be ready for this but… you're as ready as you're ever going to be for it." John lowered the radio and began to recite, from the top, all the research he'd done since Sam was six months old. All the years and sacrifices that John had made to protect his family in the interim. He snuck glances at his son and admired his concentration and his ability to sift through the information for what John could never say. For what John had always been afraid to say. That all amounted to: I loved you and your brother enough that I'll burn in Hell to save you from the evil son of a bitch that took your mother from us.

The End


End file.
